


Home for the Holidays

by GallifreyisBurning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advent Fic, Anal Sex, Baking, Christmas, Denial of Feelings, Financial Advisor Draco Malfoy, Fluff, General Holiday Cheer, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M, Mistletoe, Oral Sex, Party Planning, Sledding, Slow Burn, Unusual Side Pairings, christmas markets, toymaker Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 41,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyisBurning/pseuds/GallifreyisBurning
Summary: Draco Malfoy is perfectly happy with his high-powered finance job in New York City, thank you very much. His mother, however, has never come to terms with his moving abroad. When Draco gives in to her request that he return to the UK for the holidays to stay with her, her sister, Andromeda, and his cousin, Teddy, Draco is expecting the heavy-handed hints that it’s time for him to come home once and for all. He also isn’t surprised at getting roped into a rather absurd amount of holiday party planning. What heisn’texpecting is the sudden omnipresence of one Harry James Potter.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 411
Kudos: 533





	1. December 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first advent fic! This story is heavily inspired by the Hallmark Christmas Movie oeuvre, although its plot is my own. Basically, I just wanted to create something cheerful and festive to celebrate the holidays. As of today (December 1), I’ve written 6 chapters of 25, and I’m fairly optimistic that I’ll be able to get the whole thing done on time? So far, each chapter is ~1000 words, so I anticipate the whole thing coming out to 20-30K total. I didn’t want to ask anyone to do daily beta readings for me, so all mistakes are my own, and I’ll go back and clean the final thing up once it’s all done! I’m planning to post each chapter around 10-11 am EST, so stay tuned. Enjoy!

Draco looked tiredly around the holiday-hectic International Portkey Terminal at London’s Heathrow Airport and sighed. He hated traveling abroad in general, but he hated traveling in December even more. He couldn’t believe that he’d let his mother talk him into this. The terminal was completely packed with wix speaking any number of languages as they made their ways toward various holiday destinations. He’d already been jostled by at least three different busy parents trying to bustle recalcitrant children along, and he still had two hours of layover until his second trip. He considered simply apparating to Hogsmeade from here, but he hadn’t been to his mother’s new home yet, and anyway, he was exhausted by the first leg of his journey. Portkey travel from New York to London was both uncomfortable and extremely draining. Reluctantly, he looked around for a place to settle himself until his departure.

The drain of travel was only one of several reasons that Draco tried to return to England as infrequently as possible. It was certainly the excuse he generally used with his mother—but in reality, it ranked below his other reasons: namely, that he hated the person he had been when he had lived here, and he was reasonably sure that the rest of the wizarding world did, as well. It had been eight years since the war, but Draco doubted that the name “Malfoy” had gotten any more popular in that time, even accounting for his father’s imprisonment and subsequent death and his mother’s endless charitable works. 

Draco was happy with his life in New York. He worked at a prestigious international wizarding financial services firm (Kashburn and Costleigh), and he was good at what he did. He got to wear sharp Muggle suits and talk to very rich people about “returns on investment” and “risk management” and “diversified portfolios.” He had a beautiful, modern flat on the Upper West Side and a string of beautiful, modern men to take with him to charity galas and industry cocktail parties. He had a favorite cafe and a favorite route through the Metropolitan Museum of Art and a favorite tailor in the wizarding district that made sure all of the aforementioned sharp Muggle suits fit him like a dream. It was, frankly, more than he had ever expected of his life when he had fled from the UK immediately after the war trials were concluded.

He also had, unfortunately, a significant amount of guilt about leaving his mother alone in Wiltshire, even after his father had died last summer—a fact which she had, finally, decided to use to her favor. After a year and a half of settling accounts and apportioning off property and, finally, selling the Manor (with Draco’s full approval; good riddance to bad rubbish, in his opinion) she had now moved into a new home on the outskirts of Hogsmeade with her sister Andromeda and her grand-nephew Teddy, and she wanted him home for the holidays. And by the holidays, she meant the entirety of December. And Draco… well, after eight years abroad with only two brief Christmas visits in his first years away and one short trip home for his father’s funeral, Draco didn’t feel that he could say no.

And so, here he was.

Finding an open seat near where his next Portkey would be departing from, Draco settled himself, pulling his wool hat low to camouflage his distinctive hair and pulled a book from one of his bags to read.

***

“Darling!” Narcissa pulled Draco into a hug as soon as she pulled open the front door, not even allowing him to set down his luggage. Draco tolerated the embrace as long as he could, but soon made a noise of protest as his arms began to ache where they still clutched his bags. He had managed to make it to Hogsmeade station and through the town to the house without incident, but he was feeling distinctly travel-worn. 

“It’s lovely to see you, Mother,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic rather than exhausted and uncomfortable but unable to hide his wince of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Come in.”

Draco dropped his bags gratefully as he walked into the small foyer. The facade of the house as he approached had been tiny in comparison to the Manor but huge by New York standards, and cozy, all honey-colored stones and trailing ivy with a solid wooden door. The many windows were all alight with candles against the early winter darkness, and there were wreathes of fir and holly on each of them. The interior was just as cozy, full of dark wood, warm stone, creamy white walls, and elegant but homey velvet-covered furniture. There were plush rugs and overstuffed bookcases and an array of paintings and photographs. There were, notably, no portraits. It couldn’t have been more different than the Manor.

“It’s lovely, Mother,” Draco said, looking around curiously, “but I must admit it’s not at all what I expected.”

“I thought it was time for a change of pace,” Narcissa answered blithely. “Your room is just at the top of the stairs. Once you’ve taken your bags up, come down and have a drink with Andromeda and me. Teddy’s staying over at his godfather’s tonight, but you’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Draco tried to hide his discomfort at the idea of seeing his young cousin. He’d only met the boy once, at Lucius’ funeral, when he’d been appropriately subdued—presumably either because he could detect the sober nature of the event or because he had been warned beforehand to behave himself. Draco wasn’t… good with children, particularly. He hadn’t really known any since he’d been an adult, if he was honest, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to interact with the young Lupin boy. He himself had been horrifically spoiled, at least in terms of material goods—much to his own later detriment—but had otherwise been left to his own devices when he was not being trotted out as a political prop for his father. What did one _do_ with children, anyway? 

Still, at least he had the evening with his mother and aunt before having to solve that particular quandary. Although Draco had not known his Aunt Andromeda while growing up, he’d developed a pleasant—if infrequent—correspondence with her since she and his mother had reconnected. She greeted him warmly when he returned from unpacking his bags, and the three spent a pleasant hour in front of the fire with glasses of sweet brandy. They chatted amiably about Draco’s work and Teddy’s schooling and the plans for the house, and neither his mother nor his aunt seemed about to try to convince him to move home. For the first time since he had agreed to this visit, Draco felt himself begin to relax. Perhaps this holiday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand here we go! Pretty much just exposition today, but we’ve gotta start somewhere.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gallifrey1sburning) if you want to say hi!


	2. December 2

Draco was forced to reevaluate his assessment when he woke at an abominably early hour to an enthusiastic and rather heavy whirlwind landing on his stomach.

“Oof!” Draco’s eyes were bleary with sleep as he attempted to understand just what was happening whilst simultaneously getting his breath back.

“Cousin Draco Cousin Draco!” the whirlwind shouted, coalescing, as Draco’s eyes began to focus, into a small boy with a riot of unnervingly familiar black curls. 

“Teddy!” came a hiss from the hall, and a panicked looking Harry Potter appeared at the door, his expression turning sheepish when he saw that Draco was both awake and under attack. “Fuck, sorry Malfoy. I tried to stop him, I swear.”

“You said a bad word,” the small boy accused, grinning from his perch on Draco’s chest.

“Yes, and if your grandmother finds out she won’t let you stay over anymore, so hush,” Potter told the boy with a wink. He turned an apologetic look toward the still-sleep-dazed Draco. “I tried to explain to him that you’re on New York time and that he should let you sleep, but he’s really excited that you’re here.”

“I see that,” Draco mumbled, still trying to get his bearings. Why on earth was Harry Potter standing in his bedroom doorway? “Hello, Edward.” Draco’s head dropped back onto his pillow in resignation as he decided that attempting to understand his current situation was a lost cause. “What time is it?”

“It’s breakfast,” Teddy announced, “and Gran made pancakes, and if you don’t come downstairs they’ll all be gone.” 

Draco looked over at Harry, hoping for somewhat more useful information. 

“It’s nine.”

“Right.” Draco sighed. Four o’clock Eastern time. No wonder it felt early. As he attempted to wake up at least a little bit, he absently assessed the man standing awkwardly in his doorway. He hadn’t seen Harry Potter since he’d left for New York, and he was rather perturbed to see that the man had grown up to be incredibly fit. 

He wasn’t terribly tall, perhaps a few inches shorter than Draco, but he had filled out significantly from the wraith of a boy he’d been at the end of the war; if pressed, Draco thought he might describe the man as ‘compactly athletic.’ His hands were stuffed sheepishly into the pockets of a pair of worn jeans that hugged his thighs in an extremely distracting manner. His thick cable-knit sweater was loose across his stomach, but clung nicely to his chest and shoulders, emphasizing their muscularity. His hair was the same disaster it had always been, and his eyes were still distressingly green behind his thin wire glasses. His apologetic smile, however, was nothing like the expressions Draco remembered having directed at him over the years. 

“Hello, Potter,” Draco said belatedly, realizing that he was staring and hoping desperately that his distraction came off as ‘half asleep’ and not ‘openly ogling.’

“Hey.” Another smile. Fuck, but he looked good. “Sorry again. Anyway, I was just dropping this one off—I have to get to work—but I’m sure I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Will you?”

“I mean, I’m over here pretty often to see Teddy, so.”

“I see.” Draco paused. “Why is that?”

Harry was now beginning to look a bit concerned. “Er, because he’s my godson? We spend a lot of time together; I assumed you knew that.”

Draco tried to sort through memories of his correspondence with Andromeda and his mother but came up blank. He felt like one of them must have mentioned it, surely—but if they had, he apparently hadn’t registered the fact. “I must have at some point,” he finally said. 

Harry gave an odd, sideways sort of smile. “Right. Well. See you, then. Bye, Teds!”

“Bye Harry!” Teddy called from where he was still sitting atop Draco.

Shaking his head, Draco turned his attention to the boy, whose hair had now shifted from its Potter-esque mop to a plethora of turquoise waves. “I suppose we should go have some pancakes, shouldn’t we?” 

“Yes! And then I’m going to show you my dinosaurs!” Teddy bounced off of him, once again forcing the air from Draco’s lungs. He was going to have to put a locking charm on his door, he decided, if he wanted to avoid any more abrupt wake up calls—especially any more featuring his unfairly attractive ex-rival. In the meantime, he hoped that his mother and Andromeda had enough coffee on hand to get him through the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no children. I rarely interact with children. I am honestly not at all sure that I can write children. But I love Teddy anyway, so hopefully you will, too!


	3. December 3

It turned out that spending time with Teddy wasn’t as difficult as Draco had anticipated. The child was an endless well of energy and ideas, and he wanted to show Draco absolutely everything—his room, his toys, his books, his favorite nooks and crannies of the house. All Draco had to do was tag along and make appropriately impressed noises. Having been raised in high society, this was a trick he was intimately familiar with. Still, Draco had been exhausted by the end of the day, and he woke up late on Sunday, the combination of jetlag and the undivided attention of an enthusiastic eight-year-old enough to knock him out for a full twelve hours. Thankfully, his locking charm had held.

When he’d taken a leisurely shower and dressed, Draco made his way downstairs and found his mother and aunt curled over an array of papers on the kitchen table. “Good morning, Draco,” Andromeda greeted him. “Would you like some breakfast?” She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Or lunch, I suppose.”

“Brunch,” Draco told her. “It’s a New York staple. Makes us feel better about not getting up until noon and drinking champagne with our eggs.”

“Well you’re certainly not having champagne for breakfast here!” Narcissa looked scandalized at the very idea, which had really been Draco’s intent all along. He grinned and kissed her cheek before going to make himself some coffee and toast. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Once he had his breakfast in hand, Draco joined them at the table, glancing in interest at the papers in front of them. “What are you two up to, then?”

“We—” Narcissa started, and Draco saw a very familiar glint in her eye that he knew did not bode well for him, “—are planning a party.”

“Oh, Merlin.” He closed his eyes. He’d been sure he was free of his mother’s borderline-pathological party planning when she’d given up the manor. “Must you?”

“Really, dear, don’t be so dramatic. It’s going to be lovely.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will, once you spend the entire month planning and replanning every detail until you’ve got the whole household in tears.”

Andromeda laughed. “Is she really as bad as all that?”

“Worse. I’ll be counting on you to rein her in; I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Oh please.” Narcissa gave a dismissive wave of her hand as Andromeda laughed. “I won’t ask much of you, but I’ll certainly need your help with some aspects.”

Draco sighed, knowing that there was no way he was coming out of this unscathed. “It’s a Christmas party, then, I assume?” 

“Christmas Eve and housewarming combined,” Narcissa corrected. “We haven’t had a chance to share our new home yet, so this seemed the perfect opportunity.”

A thought occurred to Draco. “Not to be rude, Mother, but who would even come to a Malfoy party these days? We’re hardly the most popular family after everything.”

“Draco, dear, I’ve been telling you for ages that nobody cares about all that anymore. They still held a good deal of animosity toward your father, of course, up until his death, but it is widely understood that neither you nor I had much of a choice once… well.”

“Once a homicidal maniac took up residence in our home?”

It was Narcissa’s turn to sigh. “Darling. I loved your father, but he was— well, you know how he was. There was no reasoning with him. We did what we had to to stay safe. Nobody blames you for what happened, not anymore. You were a child.”

Draco shook his head, but couldn’t help himself from glancing at Andromeda. She looked sad, but not angry. “Don’t they?” he asked, not sure if he wanted an answer. “Don’t you?”

“I was a Black, once,” she said. “I, as much as anyone, know what it is to be raised in a family of pureblood idealogues. And I also know what it is to wish to protect your family at all costs.”

“But your family died because of ours.”

“Did you kill them? Ted, or Dora?”

“No, of course not!”

“Did you kill anyone?”

“Well, no, not directly, but—”

“Then it wasn’t your fault, Draco. I made a choice to forgive you and your mother for being caught up on the wrong side of things, because you did nothing that I can say for certain that I wouldn’t have done myself if I had to, to protect them. If I had been told I could save them by defecting, I honestly do not know if I would have been strong enough to refuse.” She paused, taking a sip of tea. “We’ve worked hard to heal and move on, Draco. Our family, yes, but our whole society, as well.” She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lightly, and Draco squeezed back.

“Well!” Narcissa broke in after a few moments of heavy silence. “I believe we were discussing a party?”

Tension broken, Draco rolled his eyes. “Good lord, Mother. Yes, fine, your party. What have you got so far?

They spent a pleasant hour discussing the broad strokes of the sisters’ plans before Teddy came tearing in from wherever he’d been entertaining himself and insisted that Draco come participate in the war that was apparently being waged between his dinosaurs and his dragons. 

“Honestly, though, Edward, that doesn’t sound like much of a fight. Dragons can fly and breathe fire; what can dinosaurs do against that?” Draco asked as they left the warm kitchen to head toward wherever Teddy had decided to stage his battlefield.

“Some dinosaurs can fly, too, silly! And dragons have fire, but dinosaurs have T-Rex on their team!”

Draco spent the rest of the afternoon learning just how T-Rex was expected to swing the battle in favor of Team Dinosaur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I miss brunch. (Yes, this is all you’re gonna get on the whole societal healing process. I almost didn’t put it in, but I wanted to at least vaguely reference why Draco is apprehensive to be home but doesn’t need to be. _Plot happened and then no one cared anymore._ What is author’s privilege for, if not this?)


	4. December 4

By Monday, Draco was pleased to be able to say that he had adjusted to being back on Greenwich Mean Time and had, therefore, made it down to breakfast without the help of an overexcited eight-year-old. He spent the first part of the day catching up on some work correspondence that had come in over the weekend, much to his mother’s chagrin. By one, however, he had given in to her insistence that he not work through the entirety of his vacation and joined her in the breakfast room for lunch. He had just finished when the living room floo flared to life and Harry Potter stepped through.

“Hi, Narcissa; Malfoy,” he called cheerily through the doorway as he wiped soot from his jeans. 

“Good afternoon, Harry. You needn’t call me by my full name, you know,” Narcissa responded as he joined them.

“I wasn’t! I was… oh.” He looked a bit embarrassed, and Narcissa’s eyes twinkled in a way that Draco thought could almost be called mischievous. “Right. Er, Malfoy, would you mind if I called you Draco?”

“I… suppose that would be fine, yes.” Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about this development, but he suspected that he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

Harry grinned. “Well, then. Hi, Draco.”

“Good afternoon, Potter.” He pointedly ignored his mother’s exasperated sigh. 

“Anyway,” Harry asked, addressing Narcissa. “Is Teddy ready? I told him I’d take him into Muggle London today to see some of the Christmas markets and lights and things since he had a half-day at school,” he clarified to Draco. 

“I believe so. Andromeda sent him upstairs to get dressed an hour ago. Although, he’s been worryingly quiet since then, now that I think on it. Draco, dear, would you mind going up to check on your cousin?”

“No need, I’ve got it.” Harry smiled again, heading off toward Teddy’s room.

“Honestly, Draco, can’t you do Harry the courtesy of calling him by his given name?”

“It’s the habit of a lifetime, Mother. You can’t expect me to change it now.”

“He is.”

“Yes, well, he’s Potter.”

Narcissa gave a put-upon sigh, but let the subject drop.

It wasn’t too much later than Harry returned, a bundled-up Teddy in tow. “Right, we’re off, then! We’ll be back by dinner.” Teddy was all but bouncing in excitement, obviously eager to be off.

“Have a lovely time,” Narcissa said.

Harry paused for a moment before asking, “Malfoy— er, Draco, I mean. Do you want to come?”

“Oh,” Draco said, surprised, and answered without considering. “No, that’s quite all right, but thank you.”

“Don’t be silly, Draco, go along! You haven’t left the house since you’ve been here,” Narcissa urged.

“I’d really rather—”

“If you’re worried about it being a Muggle area, I promise it’s pretty easy to blend,” Harry said. 

Draco glared. “I live in New York City, Potter. I spend almost no time in wizarding areas. I am perfectly capable of functioning in Muggle cities.”

“Oh!” Harry looked surprised. “Great! Well then, come on, join us!”

“Come on, Draco!” Teddy chimed in. “We’re going to the fair, and to the shops, and to see the tree and the lights, and we’re going to have hot chocolate!”

“I—”

“Oh, go on, Draco.”

Draco held his hands up in resignation. “Fine! Fine. Just let me get my coat.”

The trio took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron and exited to Muggle London, quickly hopping on a bus. Teddy had evidently done this before, as he seemed completely comfortable and insisted on taking the front seats on the top deck, pointing various things out to Harry and Draco as they went.

“Really?” Draco asked, surprised, as Harry pressed the button to stop at King’s Cross Station.

Harry grinned. “Never ventured off 9 3/4 at Christmas?” Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry laughed. “Right. Nevermind. King’s Cross has one of the best Christmas Markets in London; some of the Muggleborn kids at school used to talk about it. I always wanted to go, but I never went home for the holidays. Not that my relatives would have let me, anyway. So, I go every year now, just because I can—this is Teddy’s first time, though.”

“Come _on_.” Teddy’s impatient tug on Harry’s hand pulled them into motion.

Draco had been to Christmas markets before; New York had several, and he found them pleasant to wander through when he was feeling lonely around the holidays. He’d even taken a date once or twice. Attending with Harry and Teddy, however, was a new experience entirely. Teddy darted from stall to stall, pointing out everything from baubles to candy to gaudy jewelry that Draco desperately hoped he wouldn’t try to gift to anyone.

Draco watched as Harry allowed himself to be dragged around haphazardly, laughing and chatting with Teddy about everything that drew the child’s attention. They looked so happy together. Teddy’s hair was currently the messy black mop it had been when Draco first saw him, giving the two a distinctly familial resemblance, and he clung tightly to Harry with one hand, waving animatedly with the other as he spoke. Harry listened to him intently and grinned regularly, obviously delighted to be here, sharing this with his godson. Draco tried to stay a few paces behind them, letting them enjoy their time together, but every time he dropped back for more than a couple minutes, one or the other would draw him into the conversation, clearly trying to ensure that he was included.

“Look, Draco!” Teddy called at one point when he’d fallen behind again, indicating a stall full of carved wooden toys. “These look like Harry’s!” He pondered for a moment and then added, looking up at his godfather, “Yours are better, though.”

“Thanks, Ted,” Harry laughed. 

“Yours?” Draco queried.

Harry glanced at him and smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I do these days. I make toys.”

“You make toys?” Draco repeated, incredulous, and then laughed in delight. “Harry Potter grew up to be Father Christmas?”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry bumped his shoulder against Dracos, and against his will, Draco found himself grinning.

“Seriously, though, how did you find yourself a toymaker, of all things?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I just sort of fell into it, I guess? I tried a lot of things after the war. Studied wandmaking for a bit, and it didn’t really click, but I really liked the woodworking part of it, so I took some Muggle classes. I was carving things just, you know, for myself or whatever. Just small stuff—animals, that kind of thing—but then I was working at George’s shop for a bit. He does a lot of experimental charmswork, you know? And I got to thinking about how charms could be integrated into my carving, and we kind of brainstormed, and then the next thing you know, I was making these moving wooden dragons and hippogriffs and things and I just… never stopped.”

“The dragons in Teddy’s room,” Draco said, making the connection. “You did those?”

“Yeah.”

“Potter, those are— they’re astounding.” 

Harry blushed. “They’re not much.”

“They’re much more interesting than anything I had as a child. And, as you’re well aware, I was a spoiled little shit.”

Harry let out a surprised bark of laughter. “ _Language,”_ he admonished, glancing down at Teddy, who was happily chatting away with the man manning the booth, who thankfully appeared not to have heard his commentary on the quality of the carvings. Then, “Thank you.”

Once they had thoroughly explored the market stalls and Teddy’s energy appeared to be waning, they got their hot chocolate and found a small table where they could rest for a bit before Harry ushered them onto Platform 9 3/4 to the Apparition point. Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry gave a sheepish grin. “Next stop is half an hour away by bus, and I’m a bit knackered. I figured it would be fine to cheat just this once.”

Harry gave Draco their destination, and the three Apparated to Piccadilly Circus. From there, Harry led them to a stop where, Draco was a bit surprised to see, there was a queue to board an open-topped bus. “I thought we were skipping the bus?”

“This is different,” Harry smiled. “This is a tour bus.”

Their final activity, it turned out, was a tour of the best Christmas lights in London. The bus meandered from place to place, stopping by the massive Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square, coasting under the glittering lights of Regent Street and Oxford Street, and gliding past the decadent window displays at Hamleys, all while a man with a microphone wove them tales of the city’s holiday history. Draco looked at the various displays appreciatively, but he found himself much more interested in watching the look of awe on Teddy’s face as they traveled from sight to sight and Harry’s delighted grin.

By the time they returned to Hogsmeade it was nearly time for dinner, and Teddy had started to whine as the exhaustion of the day hit him. Draco didn’t blame him; he felt like he, himself, could rather use a nap. As Andromeda ushered Teddy upstairs, Harry made to leave. “Thanks for coming with us,” he said as he reached for the floo powder. 

“Thank you for including me,” Draco answered, and he found that he truly meant it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK, PLOT. It had to show up eventually! While I was writing this, I did a LOT of googling various London Christmas activities—and let me tell you, it is not that easy to find information on things like which Christmas Markets started when or what the window displays were at toy stores in 2006. The only time I’ve personally been to London in the winter was January 2010, and all I can say from personal experience is that they do not believe in salting the sidewalks, which I learned by falling on my ass. More than once. It was very icy that year. Anyway, I tried to research, but eventually I gave up, so if this isn’t entirely accurate, I apologize. Even the most neurotic of Ravenclaws has limits.


	5. December 5

“Why on earth aren’t you just hiring a house elf agency to handle this?” Draco asked in exasperation as he sorted through the stack of parchment his mother had dropped in front of him. “This is absolutely ludicrous.”

“Andromeda and I agreed when we purchased this house that we would manage it on our own,” Narcissa answered primly. “I’m perfectly capable of decorating and arranging food and drinks without a staff.”

“Then why do I have a list of tasks longer than my arm?” Draco grumbled under his breath.

Despite his best attempts, Draco had not managed to escape his mother’s machinations for her perfect Christmas Eve/housewarming party, and he was now facing the idea of spending the rest of his ‘holiday’ hand-lettering invitations and dealing with temperamental fairy labor unions to arrange lighting for the night of the event. And that wasn’t even getting into the food preparation, which he was positive was going to be a complete disaster.

“You could at least hire a caterer?” he tried, knowing even as he said it that it was a lost cause.

“It’s not as though I’m planning a sit down dinner, darling. Between the four of us, we can easily manage.”

Draco groaned. “Please tell me that you aren’t including Teddy in your division of labor, Mother. He’s _eight_ for Merlin’s sake!”

“It’s not as though I’m going to have him baking vol au vents! I’m simply planning to have him help with some of the prep work. He’s very excited about it.”

Draco sighed. This was beyond his control, and he knew it. He made a mental note to put safety charms on all the kitchen knives, just in case.

“Now, let’s discuss the guest list. Shall I put you down for a plus one?”

It had been too much to hope, he supposed, that his mother would make it a full week before she began pestering him about his love life. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Draco, dear, you know you’re not getting any younger. I’d already been married several years and had you by the time I was your age.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“Having Teddy around is lovely, of course, but I do so want grandchildren of my own.”

“First of all, I’m _gay._ I’m not going to be producing any grandchildren. And even if I were, you’re barely past fifty—it’s not as though you’re in your dotage.”

Narcissa _tsk_ ed. “It’s impolite to mention a woman’s age, Draco.”

“You _just—_ you know what, nevermind.”

“Your sexual orientation doesn’t prevent you from having children,” Narcissa went on. “Many couples use surrogacy or adoption, you know.” Draco felt his eyebrows rising and tried to school his expression. His mother’s viewpoints on propagation of the bloodline had certainly evolved since he’d been gone. “Societally, things aren’t as they were when you were younger,” she continued, either missing or ignoring his reaction. “The Wizangamot voted in favor of allowing same-sex marriages several years ago. Even the Muggles here have legalized homosexual partnerships to some extent. You could easily find a husband and have a child through less traditional means. It’s not as though I’m asking you to go against your inclinations.”

“I appreciate that,” Draco said, and meant it. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t understand why not! You’re handsome, wealthy, successful. It’s not as though you should have trouble attracting a partner.”

Draco bit back a smile. “You may be a bit biased about my attractions, Mother. But as it so happens, I do not lack for companionship back home. I simply haven’t found anyone I’m inclined to build something more serious with.” His tone turned wry. “And even if I had, I hardly think they would be traveling to Scotland just to attend a cocktail party. So it’s still irrelevant.”

“Blaise Zabini is still single, you know,” Narcissa said innocently.

“And I’m sure that’s very much by design,” Draco countered. “As I recall, Blaise rather takes after his mother when it comes to longevity of relationships. I think we would all be better off if I didn’t pursue that particular route.”

Narcissa sighed in resignation. “Fine. Not Blaise, then. But I’m sure I could find someone else to connect you with if I were to—”

“Mother. I appreciate your wish to see me happy. Truly. But I’m going back to New York in three weeks. I would prefer that you not try to matchmake while I’m home. I’d rather spend the time I have here with you and Andromeda and Teddy. Alright?”

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond, but Draco was saved by the chime of the floo in the next room. Andromeda had left to collect Teddy from school, so Draco gratefully took the excuse to cut the conversation short to answer the call.

“Pansy!” he said delightedly as his old friend’s face appeared in the flames. He had sent her, Blaise, and Greg each a short owl upon his return to the UK, expressing his wishes to see them while he was in the country. “Would you like to come through?”

At her assent, Draco stepped aside to allow her to enter. Once she’d straightened, Pansy took Draco by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks before stepping back to look him up and down. ‘You’re looking better than the last time I saw you,” she observed.

“I should hope so, as the last time you saw me was at a funeral.” He held her at arms length and gave her a quick once-over of his own: same blunt bob and severe bangs, same pristine red lip, same wicked smirk. “You look exactly the same as always.” 

“Better, I’d like to think.” She looked around her. “Well, this is a change from the Manor, isn’t it?”

“Quite. An improvement, in my opinion. I find I have less of a taste for the grotesquely opulent these days. Would you like some tea?”

“Do you really? Well that’s disturbing to hear. And no tea, thank you, I can’t stay for long. I just wanted to say hello and invite you out for drinks on Thursday.”

“That sounds lovely. I could use an excuse to escape for a bit.”

“Ooh, matchmaking or unsubtle hints that it’s time to move home?”

“The former. You’ve just rescued me from a lecture on the evolution of attitudes toward same-sex partnerships in Great Britain.”

“Sounds delightful. Well, I’ll be happy to jailbreak you for a few hours. A group of us do a regular drinks night, and we were already planning to go to the Three Broomsticks this month for nostalgia’s sake, so you won’t even have to Apparate after.” 

“A group?” Draco felt the beginnings of alarm bells going off in his head; ‘a group’ sounded like more people than just their small Slytherin cohort. 

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. “Mmm, it’s a bit of a Hogwarts alumni tradition. Mostly our year, but a few others come from time to time. It’s grown over time.”

“How many people are we discussing?”

“Oh, a dozen or so. No more than twenty. “

“That sounds… interesting.” Draco knew his trepidation was audible, but Pansy just gave him a knowing smile.

“To answer your unspoken questions, yes, it’s a mix of houses, and no, no one will mind if you come. There’s been a lot of… shall we say, interhouse mingling? Over the years.”

“Pansy, please tell me you’re not saying you’ve fucked a Gryffindor.”

“Fine, I won’t.” Draco groaned at her smug smirk. “Be there at eight,” she told him. “It will be fine. You can always hide in a corner with me and Blaise if necessary. Don’t count on Greg, though; he’s dating a former Hufflepuff and you won’t get him away from her side.”

“The world is ending,” Draco said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I looked at a December 2006 calendar, added days of the week to my outline, realized a lot of things wouldn’t work as I’d originally planned if I accounted for Teddy being in school during the days, and subsequently spent like an hour cutting and pasting plot points into a different order (which is to say, this day did not start out here. It has time traveled.). I also spent more time than is probably reasonable researching daily start and stop times of Scottish primary schools, as well as when holiday breaks usually are. Why am I like this.


	6. December 6

On Wednesday, in order to dodge another lecture from his mother on his love life and locale (“I’m only saying, Draco, Kashburn and Costleigh have a London office as well. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t—”), Draco made the possibly-slightly-dramatic decision to flee the house.

It wasn’t entirely avoidance, he told himself. He had Christmas shopping to do, and he could pick up some of the things Mother would need for her party to mollify her after his abrupt departure. He opted to walk the twenty minutes to Hogsmeade’s shopping district rather than Apparating, allowing the crisp winter air to clear his head and calm his nerves.

With the exception of his brief trip through on his way to his mother and Andromeda’s house, Draco had not set foot in Hogsmeade since his Hogwarts days. As the main street came into view, he could see why Pansy had chosen it as a nostalgia-fueled destination. Everything about it looked almost exactly the same as it had ten years ago—the last time he’d seen it before it had been completely boarded up and shut down as the war hit its stride. Zonko’s had been taken over by Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes (not much of a surprise, considering how well their flagship location had done even at the peak of the war), and the Ollivander’s outpost had been replaced by a different wandmaker that Draco was unfamiliar with—Ollivander having passed some years ago, according to his mother—but otherwise, overall, everything looked just as he remembered.

Draco wandered down the main thoroughfare, peering in the window of Gladrags to see the newest robe styles (many hardly distinguishable from Muggle attire these days) and Spintwitches to assess the newest racing brooms (which he didn’t think looked that much better than the old Firebolts, but what did he know?). He had just made the decision to dip into Tomes and Scrolls when a solid form knocked into his shoulder, almost pushing him to the ground. He only managed to stay upright by grabbing onto the window frame of the shop. 

“What the—”

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t— oh! Malfoy! Er, I mean, Draco. Sorry. Hey.”

“Hello,” Draco answered bemusedly, rubbing at his shoulder. His assessment of Harry Potter as ‘compact’ had apparently not been unfounded; the man had the density of a rock, if the force of his buffeting was anything to go by. “In a hurry?”

Harry gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m really not, I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. You okay?”

Draco gave his sore shoulder a tentative rotation. “In one piece, as far as I can tell. Might bruise a bit, but I’m sure there’s a salve of some sort back at the house.”

Harry grimaced. “Sorry. Look, I was on my way to grab a coffee; can I buy you one as an apology? Or were you on your way somewhere?”

Draco hesitated. He was tempted to give an excuse, but Harry’s face looked like a chastised crup and he heard himself agreeing before his brain could completely catch up with his mouth. “You weren’t heading to Puddifoot’s, though, were you? I’m not sure I can handle a room full of besotted teenagers today.”

“Good god, no,” Harry grimaced. “I’m still traumatized from my one date there back in fifth year.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Draco said, grinning at the recollection. “Didn’t Chang throw a tantrum and leave you standing in a crowded cafe, gaping like a fish?”

Harry groaned. “Why do _you_ remember that? You weren’t even there!”

“I didn’t need to be; half the school was present to share the gossip later on. And of course I remember; I _lived_ for your humiliation. That was one of the highlights of my year.”

“Oh, piss off,” Harry said, but he was smiling. 

As they’d talked, Harry had led Draco down a side street, and they now stood in front of a small shop with a simple wood-burned sign reading “The Bean and Leaf” that resembled many of the small, independent Muggle coffee shops scattered around Manhattan. When Draco said as much, Harry grinned. “There’s a lot of cultural integration happening these days,” he said. “Muggle-style things are all the rage.”

“I noticed that at Gladrags,” Draco agreed. “I can’t say I’m disappointed; most robes are incredibly unflattering, and they’re a bitch to maintain.”

Harry laughed as they entered the shop. “Never thought I’d hear that from you.” His gaze traveled up and down Draco’s body thoughtfully, and Draco did his best not to squirm. “Can’t say it doesn’t suit you, though.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said and he gave an awkward cough. “I mean. Right. Anyway. What would you like?”

Draco hoped that his flush could be blamed on the sudden transition from the outside chill to the cozy interior of the shop and focused his gaze up at the menu on the wall. If he hadn’t known that Harry was straight, he might have taken that as flirting. Awkward, accidental flirting, perhaps, but still. “Earl grey?” 

“Sure thing.” As they reached the front of the short queue, Harry ordered Draco’s tea and a cappuccino from the bored-looking teen manning the counter. She waved her wand lazily and the drinks began preparing themselves while Harry and Draco stepped to the side.

“Never would have pegged you as a cappuccino sort of man,” Draco observed, trying to fill the mildly uncomfortable silence that had fallen between them.

“I like the foam; it makes it feel special for some reason,” Harry said sheepishly. “But honestly, I’m also completely dependent on the caffeine these days. Pre-holiday is my busiest time of year.”

“That makes sense.”

Their drinks landed on the ledge before them, announcing Harry’s name in a squeaky voice that made Draco jump, and Harry collected them and moved toward a small table. Draco had assumed that the drinks would be made to go (as was the case in most of the shops he frequented unless one specified otherwise), but they’d been prepared in chic white mugs, and so he resigned himself to a few more minutes of awkward small talk. Luckily, Harry took the lead. “So, you’re in finance these days, right?” Draco’s surprise must have shown on his face, because he quickly went on, “Narcissa talks about you sometimes.”

“Well, that’s disturbing to hear,” Draco grimaced. “But yes, investment banking.”

“You like it?”

“Well enough. It’s more interesting than you’d expect.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Happy to have found a subject that he could discuss without revealing too much of himself or stumbling over any accidental references to their uncomfortable shared history, Draco began to share the stories of some of his more colorful clients. These led to a handful of anecdotes about the odd custom orders Harry had handled over the years, which led to a lively discussion of the pros and cons of magical versus mechanical animation of toys and gadgets. 

When the two eventually parted ways, Draco was surprised to see that they had passed more than an hour together—and that, once they’d been seated, it hadn’t been awkward at all. He was already on his way back to the house when he realized, with some chagrin, that he’d forgotten to go into a single store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you have a meet-cute when you’ve known each other for 15 years and literally hung out two days ago? Asking for a friend.


	7. December 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shoutout to Oriberry and Rimedio, who've been commenting as we go along — y'all make my day!

“Draco Malfoy, you absolute bloody coward, get your arse to this bar before I show up and drag you here myself!”

Pansy’s crow Patronus gave one last indignant flap of its wings before dissolving into the air. Across the room, Andromeda tried to hide a snort. “It sounds like you have somewhere to be,” she said wryly. 

Draco pouted. “Shouldn’t you be on my side, here? I would think you’d want me to spend quality time with my family, not get drunk with a bunch of old schoolmates who don’t even like me.”

“If they’re drunk, I’m sure they’ll like you just fine,” Andromeda said dismissively, turning her attention back to her book.

“Well that’s reassuring.” Draco huffed and then dithered in his chair for a moment before deciding that he would rather deal with annoyed tipsy Pansy at a pub than irate tipsy Pansy in his mother’s living room. Resignedly, he pulled on his coat and Apparated to Three Broomsticks.

Luckily, Pansy and Blaise were easy to spot in the crowd, Blaise being a good few inches taller than most of the people around them.

“You’re a cow and I hate you,” Draco told Pansy as he kissed her cheek and nodded at Blaise in greeting.

“You’re welcome,” she answered. “Drink?” 

He accepted the proffered martini and glanced around the pub, taking in the faces of a good number of their schoolmates. Most of them had been here for a few rounds already, if the unregulated volume and flushed cheeks were anything to go by. He caught sight of many of the people that he had hoped to avoid whilst in the country—Granger, Longbottom, and several Weasleys were all present—as well as others that he knew by sight but couldn’t remember ever interacting with and a handful of former Slytherins. Greg was, as Pansy had predicted, standing with a group of people that Draco vaguely recognized as Hufflepuffs, his arm protectively over the shoulder of a petite blonde. The Greengrass sisters were sitting at a table with the Patil twins, chatting away, and Theo Nott—whom Draco had not stayed in touch with after the war—was standing around a high top table with Millie Bulstrode and, oddly, Luna Lovegood. 

“Well this is… festive,” he finally said. “Remind me why we’re here and not catching up on our own somewhere?”

“Because, unlike you, we stayed in the country and actually bothered to make friends with people outside of our very small and very incestuous group of housemates,” Blaise smirked.

“Meaning you slept with them?”

“Meaning we slept with them. Cheers.”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. He’d missed his friends, no matter how much they annoyed him.

The trio traded quick updates on their lives; Draco had managed to keep up a semi-frequent correspondence with each of them, so in reality, there wasn’t that much to update one another on. Draco finished his martini and ordered another, hoping that by catching up to the others, he’d feel slightly less out of place.

It had been perhaps twenty minutes when a long arm dropped suddenly over Pansy’s shoulder and a head of red hair leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “Hello, gorgeous!” came the somehow-still-familiar voice of George Weasley.

Much to Draco’s chagrin, Pansy gave the man a fond smile. “Hello there.”

“What the actual fuck?” Draco heard himself say. 

“If it isn’t the prodigal son!” George exclaimed, turning his attention to Draco. “Harry said you were back in town. Still as friendly and charming as ever, I see.”

Pansy pinched Weasley’s side, which only made him laugh. “Draco, you remember George.”

“Indeed. So you’re…?”

“Friends,” Pansy said with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, she hasn’t given in entirely to my charms,” George told Draco with a smirk of his own. “Can’t pin this one down, can you? But she’s a hell of a good time.” 

“For fuck’s sake, stop it,” Pansy chastized, but she was grinning. “Go harass someone else if you can’t behave.”

“You like it when I misbehave.” George wiggled his eyebrows but let Pansy go, sauntering off toward the bar.

“Good lord, Pansy, really?” Draco asked when he was out of earshot.

Pansy shrugged. “He makes me laugh. And he’s got a cock the size of a—”

“ _Please_ stop.” Draco closed his eyes for a moment. “I did not need that mental picture even a little bit,” he sighed. Still, he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder in the direction that the ginger had retreated. George was leaning against the bar, talking animatedly to—

“ _Shit,”_ Draco hissed as his eyes met Potter’s. Of course he was here. All of his friends were, after all. And now Draco looked like a stalker, first running into Harry on the street and then showing up at his pub night. Harry seemed unbothered, however; he smiled and clapped George on the shoulder, grabbing a tumbler of something golden off the bar and heading their way.

“Pansy, Blaise,” he nodded. “Hey, Draco. I’m glad you’re here! I should have mentioned it yesterday but I completely forgot it was even happening until Ginny showed up at my workshop and practically dragged me out by my hair.”

“Perfectly alright,” Draco said stiltedly, still feeling like an interloper. So Harry was still with his own Weasley, then. He wondered why she hadn’t come along when Harry had taken Teddy into London.

“Harry. Looking good, as always,” Blaise said, giving Harry a very blatant once over. “And how is Ginevra?”

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. “Fuck off, Blaise. And Ginny’s completely sloshed and making out with Angelina in a corner booth last I saw.” Draco immediately felt himself relax and then tried to pretend he hadn’t.

“You’d think they’d be past the disgusting PDA phase by now, wouldn’t you?” Pansy asked, looking more intrigued than put off. Harry laughed.

“How’s Cassie?” he asked Blaise, changing the subject to the younger Zabini sibling. “Any plans for post-graduation yet?”

“Hardly,” Blaise sighed. “She’s too busy trying to make sure she snogs every single person in her year. I think perhaps she’s planning to follow in Mother’s footsteps and marry rich.”

Harry grinned. “Hopefully that’s the only part of the family legacy she carries on.”

“Stop throwing aspersions at my mother; I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, it’s not her fault that accidents tend to happen around her.” 

“Riiiiiight. Anyway, I’ve got to go find Ron and Hermione; it was good seeing you, though!” He turned back to Draco, resting a hand on his upper arm. “I really am glad you came. I know it’s a little weird for you, being back.”

“Yes. Well. Thank you.” Draco was frustrated to find that he couldn’t muster a more eloquent response. Maybe it was the alcohol? It certainly couldn’t be the physical contact or the surprisingly conscientious concern, he tried to tell himself.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Blaise told Harry with a wink, biting his lip suggestively. Harry shook his head, laughing as he wandered off toward his friends.

Draco watched him go and then whipped his head back toward Blaise. “What the hell was that?!”

“What?” Blaise asked innocently, sipping at his glass of wine.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Zabini.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Zabini’ now, is it?” He smirked. “We went out a few times, if you must know. It didn’t go anywhere, but we stay in touch.”

“I’m sorry, _WHAT?!?”_ Several people nearby looked over curiously, and Draco lowered his voice to a hiss. “You hooked up with Harry-fucking-Potter? First of all, isn’t he straight? And secondly, _how could you not tell me?”_

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Do I know the names of all your casual hookups?” 

Draco gaped at him. Pansy, meanwhile, was observing them, looking deeply entertained. “I can’t believe you didn’t know he was queer; that’s absolutely priceless,” she said, sounding positively gleeful. “You really don’t keep up with the news at all, do you? He came out as bisexual _years_ ago; the _Daily Prophet_ , _Witch Weekly_ , and _Modern Wizard_ all had a field day. It was front page news for _months._ ”

“I cannot believe this is happening.” Draco wasn’t sure why, exactly, he was so shaken. It wasn’t like it had anything to do with him. Still, he couldn’t help himself from digging for more information. “You say it didn’t go anywhere, but you certainly seemed fairly keen on him just now. What was the problem?”

“Hmm.” Blaise looked pensive, in a studied sort of way. “Too little in common in some ways, too much in others.”

“What does that even mean?”

Blaise smirked and looked down at him, obviously relishing the moment. “He isn’t interested in fashion, I’m not interested in quidditch, and neither of us are interested in bottoming.”

Draco, who had just taken a sip of his drink, promptly choked. “For fuck’s sake,” he spluttered as Pansy thumped him on the back while Blaise snorted with laughter. “Have you no sense of propriety _at all_?”

“You did ask,” Pansy pointed out. 

“I really do hate you both.”

*****

Several hours and rather-more-than-several drinks later, Draco stumbled back to his mother and Andromeda’s house, feeling untethered but also distinctly unburdened. As the night had worn on and the alcohol had flowed, he’d ended up in an odd series of conversations with a variety of people whom he would never have expected to speak civilly with. 

He had, after getting over his initial shock at George Weasley’s romantic (or, at least, sexual) involvement with his best friend, had a rather long exchange with him about finances; it turned out that the joke shop had continued to do quite well and George was keen on getting longer term investment tips. He’d not only gotten into a discussion on regulations on magical imports and exports with Hermione Granger, of all people, but they had _agreed_ with one another. He’d even talked at some length with Neville Longbottom about the trials of being the last heir in a long line of purebloods with no interest in reproducing, Neville tipsily admitting that he had never had much interest in romantic relationships and was perfectly happy with his kneazle and his plants, despite his grandmother’s growing frustration.

He’d also had surprisingly pleasant reunions with several former friends that he’d fallen out of touch with over the years. Greg had introduced him to his girlfriend, who turned out to be called Susan Bones, and who was very sweet; the pair were quite visibly besotted with one another in a way that made Draco’s chest ache. He and Astoria Greengrass had reminisced about their parents’ fruitless plotting to arrange a marriage between them and laughed at how both sets of adults had done their best to ignore the fact that Draco was very, very gay (and not at all good at hiding it). Millie had declared him just as insufferable as ever before pulling him into a conversation with herself and Luna Lovegood about the pros and cons of breeding hybrid animals from combinations of magical and non-magical creatures. 

At the end of the night, when they had all been well beyond drunk, Draco vaguely remembered leaning heavily on Harry Potter’s shoulder whilst they earnestly discussed something-or-other. There had, he thought, been some emphatic clasping of arms and clumsy grabbing of hands as points were expressed, overly tactile in the way that the extremely inebriated were wont to be. He could recall Ron Weasley looking on in wry amusement before finally telling Harry that it was about time he got home to bed. Weasley had apparently drawn the short straw and was the night’s designated Apparator for people who lived too far away or were too drunk to make it home safely on their own. Draco had insisted on walking, unwilling to accept assistance from anyone at all, let alone a Weasley (he was reasonably sure he had managed to keep this last bit to himself, which he thought was rather good of him), and was pleased that he had managed to get back all in one piece. Once inside, he went straight to his room, flopped face-first and fully clothed onto his bed, and was unconscious within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of fun I had writing this chapter was, frankly, obscene. George/Pansy might be my favorite completely bonkers pairing of all time.


	8. December 8

Andromeda and Narcissa had promised Teddy that everyone could decorate the Christmas tree together on Friday night. It was a change of pace for Draco, who had grown up with a cadre of elves magically festooning an array of vast trees scattered around the Manor every year, and he was actually quite looking forward to it (or, at least, he was once the hangover potion an amused Andromeda had passed him over breakfast had taken effect). They were planning to do it by hand, a tradition that Andromeda had picked up from her Muggle husband, and the idea of it made Draco smile. It felt intimate—a real, personal celebration of the season rather than a performance. It wasn’t until he heard the knocking at the door, however, that it occurred to Draco that ‘everyone’ included Potter. Because of course it did.

Draco cursed himself for getting so intoxicated the night before. Things had been going fairly well with Potter up until that point—the trip to London had been surprisingly nice, and their impromptu coffee had been perfectly pleasant. But then Blaise had had to go and put all sorts of _thoughts_ into his head, and he’d had to drown them in vodka, and then he’d had to… he wasn’t sure. Have some sort of drunken heart-to-heart with Potter that he couldn’t remember a word of but was afraid might have been humiliating enough to require fleeing the country? The problem was that he didn’t _know_ , and now he was faced with the prospect of spending several hours with a man whom he might have made any number of horrifying confessions to—some of which he wasn’t even ready to confess to himself. All he knew for sure was that there had been enough physical contact that he could feel the ghost of Harry’s heat against his shoulder, down his arm, along his palm. He ardently wished that he could forget that, as well.

Harry seemed to feel just as awkward, which increased Draco’s anxiety tenfold. Merlin, what had he _said_ to make Harry blush like that every time they made accidental eye contact? Teddy, luckily, seemed blissfully unaware of the tension, but Andromeda and his mother watched them with undisguised curiosity. Finally, Draco couldn’t take it anymore.

“Potter, may I speak with you?”

“Yeah, of course. Erm, kitchen?” Harry looked a bit nauseous, but led the way out of the front room toward the back of the house. Draco threw up a quick privacy charm, not positive that he could trust his mother not to eavesdrop. As soon as he dropped his wand, Harry turned to him. He looked tired and anxious, and before Draco could even open his mouth, he started apologizing. “I want to say sorry if I did or said anything last night that I maybe shouldn’t have,” he said, all in a rush, “I woke up this morning and realized I think I talked to you for quite a while but I honestly don’t have any idea what I said and you seem really uncomfortable and I—”

“I don’t remember, either,” Draco blurted, relief loosening his tongue. 

Harry stopped mid-sentence, eyeing him as though trying to read the truth of his statement on his face. “You don’t?”

“Not a word of it.” Draco took a deep breath and let it out in an audible _whoosh._ “I’ve been wracking my brain all day. I thought perhaps I said something—well. I thought _I_ might be the one who owed _you_ an apology.” He almost admitted that he was afraid he might have let something truly embarrassing slip, but decided that some thoughts were better kept to oneself—especially ones that might lead to immensely awkward questions. 

“Oh,” Harry said. He appeared to deflate slightly, obviously having geared himself up for a much more fraught conversation. “So… we were worried about the same thing, then? Nothing’s actually changed?”

Draco felt his lips curve up in relief. “It sounds that way.” _Earth-shattering revelations about your sexual preferences aside,_ he did not add.

“Good. That’s… good.” Harry gave a sideways little smile. “I’d hate to have to avoid Teddy for several weeks because I couldn’t look you in the face.”

“You’re safe to look at my face as much as you like,” Draco assured him, and then felt himself blush what was probably a very seasonal shade of red. “Merlin and Morgana, forget I said that immediately.”

Rather than laughing at him, as Draco has assumed he might, Harry blushed as well. “Right. Let’s uh… let’s get back to decorating, then, shall we?” He cleared his throat and seemed to be aiming for a lighter tone as he added, “Teddy’s made some impressively hideous baubles at school that he’s keen to hang.”

“Ah yes, the ones that have already shed glitter over half the house.” Draco was more than happy to accept the change of subject, and the two returned to the living room. 

“Everything alright?” Draco could see right through his mother’s faux-casual inquiry as they rejoined the group.

“Perfectly,” Draco answered, offering nothing more as he freed a tangled garland from a box of decorations.

Things were much less awkward after that, although at first Draco could still feel himself flushing when he accidentally brushed against Harry, and he caught the other man looking quickly away from him several times. As the evening wore on, however, the discomfort faded. Andromeda suggested a hot cocoa break, and by the time the beverages were gone, they had managed to slip into a surprisingly friendly rapport. 

The group kept up an easy banter as they wove around one another, scattering decorations over the large fir tree. They took their time, allowing Teddy to hem and haw over the location of each bauble, Harry gamely lifting him when he wanted to reach the higher branches. Andromeda poked fun at Narcissa for her meticulous arrangement of strings of cranberries, with Draco backing his mother up, insisting that there was nothing wrong with perfectionism. When Draco found a collection of bird-shaped ornaments, he commented that perhaps they should nest in Potter’s hair rather than on the tree, and Harry threw a carved wooden hedgehog at him, making Draco cackle. He felt warm all over. _This is what family is supposed to feel like_ , he thought, and catching his mother’s eye, he knew that she was thinking the same. There was a bittersweet ache in his heart that he was only finding this now, when his life was firmly settled thousands of miles away. 

“Cousin Draco, why do you call Harry ‘Potter’?” Teddy asked as Draco handed him the hedgehog so that he could decide where it belonged on the by-now-overfull tree. 

In his periphery, Draco saw his mother roll her eyes and studiously ignored her. “I’ve always called him ‘Potter’,” he said. “We went to school together, and people often call each other by their surnames in school.”

“But you’re not in school anymore. You’re old! You should call him ‘Harry’. Shouldn’t he, Harry?”

“I’d like it if he did,” Harry said, glancing at Draco before grinning down at Teddy, “but I don’t mind if he wants to call me ‘Potter.’ I’m more concerned with you calling us _old._ ”

“But you _are_ old!” Teddy insisted with a mischievous grin that turned into hysterical laughter as Harry grabbed him around the middle and started tickling him. “ _No! Stop!”_

“Are you going to stop calling me old?” Harry asked, pausing, clearly holding his godson loosely enough that he could get away if he really wanted to. 

“No!” Teddy yelled, relapsing into helpless giggles as Harry once again began wiggling his fingers against his stomach and sides. “You’re old you’re old you’re old!” Teddy reached out toward Draco, grinning and gasping. “Cousin Draco! Rescue me!”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Draco said, feigning regret. Then, steeling himself, he added, “I’m on _Harry_ ’s side on this one. We’re not old at all.” He kept his focus on the squirming Teddy, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught Harry’s surprised grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re about a third of the way through! Thanks for sticking with me so far. Things are gonna start picking up a bit from here (I’d say tomorrow’s basically the end of Act One), so stay tuned!


	9. December 9

While still buzzing from the unexpected pleasure of Happy Family Holiday Time™ the night before, Draco had impulsively agreed to go sledding with Teddy and Harry the next day. He was now deeply regretting that decision.

Draco had not done much in the way of sledding as a child. It was a bit boring to do on one’s own, which was how he spent the majority of his winter holidays, especially because the land around the Manor was almost entirely flat. What little he _had_ done had been vastly different than what he was doing now, most notably because the sledding of his youth had not involved him having Harry Potter settled firmly between his legs.

December in the United Kingdom was not actually an ideal time to go sledding for the majority of people. This was mostly due to the fact that there was, unfortunately, rarely much in the way of snow. Harry, however, had promised that he had a plan. Once they were properly bundled up, he had taken Teddy and Draco to an area he told them was near the Weasley family’s home, and where the always-enterprising George had instituted a weekend side-business: a course of increasingly steeply sloped hills covered in conjured snow. Use of the hills was free, but there was a small shed from which people could rent sleds in any number of shapes and sizes and with any number of different magical enhancements. The idea had apparently been inspired by Hermione, who had once mentioned the Muggle practice of creating artificial snow in ski resorts, and had turned out to be quite lucrative.

The course wasn’t terribly crowded, so they’d had their pick of sleds. They had started on a series of concave disks about a meter in diameter, careening down one of the easier hills. Harry had opted for non-magical sleds, saying that he’d never gotten to go sledding as a child and wanted to try it the “old fashioned way” first. Draco had immediately loved the feeling of it—like flying, the cold air stinging his cheeks and nose, but wilder, less controllable. His jubilant laughter had whipped away with the wind, joining Harry’s whoops and Teddy’s shrieking joy. 

They had spun their way down the hills over and over, sometimes sliding to a smooth stop, sometimes tipping ungracefully into piles of soft, pristine snow. Harry’s delighted grin had never left his face. They’d taken turns hauling Teddy, and each other, to their feet, and Harry’s eyes had twinkled with joy and what Draco thought might be affection—an affection that, inexplicably, didn’t seem to be directed solely at Teddy. Draco had found himself grinning back helplessly, his inability to tamp down the exhilaration of it all leaving him open, unguarded.

After a few runs, Teddy had insisted on racing, but quickly called foul as Harry and Draco’s greater weight had given them the gravitational advantage. Heading off the beginnings of a pout, Harry had returned the disks and secured them a larger family toboggan instead—one which the teen manning the shack insisted could fit up to four people comfortably. Their combined weight, Harry had explained to Teddy, would make them go much faster than any one of them on their own.

Draco was now trying very hard to focus on anything other than the pressure of Harry’s warm, firm body against him and wondering despairingly just how small those alleged four people were. Harry had explained to Draco that—as he was the tallest of the group—it would be best for him to take the back seat, his legs spread out to accommodate Harry, who in turn bracketed Teddy. Draco’s arms were wrapped around them both, joining Teddy’s on the string that would supposedly help them direct the sled, sandwiching them all even closer together. It was, in his opinion, a very, very tight fit. 

“Ready?” Harry asked them both, and Draco nodded tersely while Teddy gave an enthusiastic “Yeah!” 

“Draco?” Harry asked, turning, and Draco realized that he had not, of course, been able to see the nod. He nodded again, trying desperately to ignore the drag of Harry’s clothes against his own as he turned back. Salazar but this had been an awful idea. Sledding was a terrible, uncivilized activity and he should never have agreed to take part.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Harry’s voice was playfully determined, and Draco took a deep, calming breath. He was not affected by any of this, he told himself. He was _not affected by any of this._ Maybe, he reflected forlornly, if he thought it enough times, he would start to believe it. He soon felt the toboggan slide into motion beneath him, however, and as they picked up momentum, his discomfort was swept away in the wind.

Harry had been right. The speed that they were traveling at was far beyond what they had attained on their individual sleds. The wind of their passing pulled at his face, almost burning in its intensity, and it was _glorious_. When they reached the bottom of the hill, panting to catch their breath, Draco had almost flopped backward off the sled. “That,” he said breathlessly, “was awesome.” Harry cackled.

They dragged the sled back up the hill and repeated the run twice more. Draco was starting to feel the ache of it in his muscles, and knew he wouldn’t be able to go for much longer. Harry seemed to be wearing down as well, his movements clumsier as he tried to right himself after their last descent. “Can we do the highest one?” Teddy begged when they’d all finally scrambled to their feet. 

Harry looked up at the steepest hill apprehensively, watching a few intrepid sledders positively fly down the slope. “I don’t know, Teds, I think maybe we should stick with this one. That was already really fast, yeah?”

“Pleeeeeeease?” 

Draco could practically see Harry’s resistance crumbling. “Well…”

Draco touched his arm. “We’ll put a cushioning charm on his coat, okay?” he murmured so that only Harry could hear. “Just in case.” Harry gave him a thankful smile. 

“Alright, come on,” he said, putting on a theatrically exasperated tone, “but this is the last hill, okay?”

“YES!” Teddy yelled, fist in the air, and Draco shook his head, smiling. He thought, wistfully, that he missed the neverending energy of childhood.

The final hill went smoothly for the first few seconds, but as they accelerated, it all began to go wrong. Between one moment and the next, Harry’s woolen hat was whipped violently from his head by the whistling wind, flying off somewhere into the distance. His hand flew up to catch it, but too late. Immediately, his now-loose curls slapped Draco across the face, tangling in his eyelashes and brows and obscuring his vision. 

“Shit!” He could barely hear Harry’s panicked exclamation over the rush of wind in his ears. He couldn’t see, but he could feel them veering to the side. Freeing one hand, he tried to push the hair from his eyes while simultaneously trying to correct their course, but he miscalculated. There was nothing for it; they were going to crash. “Teddy! Roll!” he heard Harry call, and then the sled—now traveling sideways down the steep hill—flipped, and they were airborne. 

As Draco landed on his back in the snow, the air pushed from his lungs by the force of it, he could faintly hear Teddy laughing from what must have been several meters away. “That was wicked!” He felt relief wash over him. Thank Merlin for cushioning charms. 

Next to him, he could hear Potter panting. “Fucking christ,” he muttered, and Draco laughed breathlessly. 

“Quite.”

His laughter died as Harry rolled over, bracing himself on one arm over Draco. “You okay?” he asked, concern clear in his voice—a voice which was coming from far, far too close to Draco’s face. Harry’s glasses must have been lost with his hat, because his own face was bare, and his eyes really were extraordinarily green, and Draco still couldn’t breath but he was no longer sure it was from the fall.

Inadvertently, his gaze flitted down to Harry’s lips, pink and chapped from the wind. He snapped his eyes back up, horrified at himself. “Fine,” he choked, before clearing his throat. “Fine,” he tried again.

Harry, whose face had taken on a curious look at Draco’s unconscious glance, gave a small, relieved smile, but didn’t move away. “Good,” he said, his voice soft. He paused for a moment, seeming to make a decision, and then he was leaning down slightly, and oh god, he was doing to kiss Draco, and Draco was going to _let him_ , and—

“Can we do it again?!” Teddy’s enthusiastic request came from mere feet away, and Harry rolled off of Draco impressively quickly, pulling himself up and brushing the snow off of himself as though nothing had happened. Draco followed suit, studiously not looking at him. Fucking hell. He took a deep breath and tried to be grateful that they’d been interrupted. _You’re only here for a month_ , he berated himself. He had to get himself together. The last thing he needed was to complicate his holiday with a romantic entanglement—especially with someone who was so deeply entrenched in his family. It could only end badly.

“No way,” Harry answered Teddy, laughing. “You’ve tired me out. It’s time to go home.”

“Come on, pleeeeeease?” Teddy hung on Harry’s arm, eyes pleading, but this time Harry didn’t give in, although he was still smiling.

“Sorry, bud. I’ll bring you again some other weekend, okay? Now come on, we need to find my hat. And my glasses,” he added ruefully.

“Fine,” Teddy sighed, put-upon in the way only a child can be. Draco saw Harry glance over his shoulder at him, but he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The toboggan Harry, Draco, and Teddy share is something like [this one](https://www.amazon.com/ESP-66-Family-Fun-Toboggan/dp/B001KW3Y6O). My family had a similar one when I was a kid, and they are super fun and super difficult to control. Also, if you fuck it up, you end up with snow up your pants legs, which is fairly unpleasant. Tuck your jeans into your socks, kids. You’ll thank me later.


	10. December 10

Draco had apparated back to the house on his own, as Teddy was once again spending the night at Harry’s. He’d parted ways with them as quickly as he could manage, saying nothing but a brief “bye, then” before disappearing. Now it was morning, and he was hiding.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t hiding, but even he wasn’t convinced by the lie. He’d heard the floo signaling Harry and Teddy’s imminent arrival and had promptly fled upstairs and locked himself in his room. Even through the closed door, however, he could faintly hear the conversation taking place between Harry and Andromeda downstairs. Not that he was listening.

“Morning, Andromeda,” came Harry’s voice as Teddy’s footsteps pounded up the stairs. “He’s a bit wound up, sorry.” He sounded sheepish.

“Isn’t he always?” Andromeda sighed.

“Um, is Draco around? I was hoping to talk to him about something.”

There was a pause. “He was down for breakfast a bit ago, but I’m not sure where he is now. I’ll let him know that you were looking for him, though, if you’d like.” Draco silently thanked his aunt for keeping his rapid departure to herself. He was aware that he must have looked like an idiot as he sprinted up the stairs and away from the conversation that he knew was coming. His avoidance was as obvious as an Erumpent in a tea shop.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Thank you. I’m, uh— I’m heading into the workshop. If he asks.” Harry sounded disappointed, and Draco felt a knot in his stomach.

“I’ll tell him,” Andromeda said, and he could hear the sympathy in her voice. 

“Right. Well, I’ll see you for dinner on Tuesday. Bye.” 

Draco sighed and flopped backwards onto his bed. Maybe, by Tuesday, Potter would forget their almost-kiss?

Before long, a knock came at his door. “Draco, I know you’re in there. May I come in?” 

Draco sighed again, knowing that he owed his aunt at least some sort of explanation for his behavior. He sat up and waved his wand, undoing his locking charms. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Andromeda leaned against the doorway, an unreadable look on her face. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“Not really.” She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed again. Was expressive eyebrows a Black family trait? He wondered. He and his mother had been known to have conversations entirely in eyebrow gesture; it had driven his father mad. “ _Fine_. It’s possible that Harry almost kissed me yesterday.”

“I see. And you stopped him?”

“...Not exactly. We were interrupted.”

Andromeda gave a wry smile, immediately surmising what—or who, rather—the interruption had likely been. Her look quickly turned probing, however. “So, you wouldn’t have stopped him?”

Draco grimaced. “No.”

“So you wanted to kiss him, as well?”

“No! Well, yes. Maybe?” Draco rubbed his hands over his face. “It wouldn’t be a good idea, that’s all.”

Andromeda observed him silently for a moment. Then, “How so?”

“He’s part of the family!” Draco said, exasperated. Andromeda once again raised an eyebrow, and he glared. “Not like _that._ He’s just… here, a lot. And a big part of Teddy’s life. And it’s not like it could lead anywhere, so it would just make everything awkward.”

“I see,” Andromeda repeated. “So you decided to make it less awkward by running away from him and refusing to address what happened?”

“I panicked, okay?” He sighed once more. “I didn’t know what to say.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes, and good lord did he hate having his own disdainful expressions used against him. “Well I suggest you figure out what to say and go sort this out, because he is, as you said, here rather a lot, and it’s going to be a hell of a lot more awkward if you keep hiding in your room when he shows up.”

Draco’s head drooped in resignation. “I know.”

“He’s in his workshop,” Andromeda told him, but the look in her eyes said that she was well aware that he already knew that.

“Alright.”

*****

In the end, Draco decided that his best option was to just tell Harry exactly what he had told Andromeda. He’d contemplated outright lying about his attraction, but if their situations were reversed, he knew that he would be much more hurt by a flat rejection than a logical explanation. And as much as he was tempted to take the self-preserving route, he was trying not to be that person anymore, so he’d just have to suck it up—as much as it went against his nature to do so.

Harry answered the knock on his workshop door promptly and didn’t look terribly surprised to see him. Andromeda must have given him a heads up. “Hey,” he said. “Come on in.”

“Thank you.” Draco stepped inside and closed the door behind him, slowly wiping the slush that had accumulated on the street off his shoes and smoothing his hair before deciding that procrastinating was not making this any easier. “I wanted to apologize,” he said bluntly, finally meeting Harry’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how to explain exactly what it was that he was sorry for, but thankfully, Harry seemed to understand.

“It’s fine,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would want—” He trailed off with a small shrug. “I’m not always… the best, at reading people.”

He looked sad and embarrassed and Draco knew that if he hadn’t already decided to tell the truth, he would have done so now. “You didn’t misread,” he said, chest tight. “I just can’t. Even if I might want to. It’s not a good idea.”

“Oh.” Relief, quickly followed by disappointment and puzzlement flickered across Harry’s face. “Why? You don’t have to tell me,” he added hurriedly, “just, I’m a bit confused.”

“It’s fine,” Draco said with a small smile. “It’s just that… “ He took a deep breath. “It’s all been so much _nicer_ than I expected so far, being back here. Spending time with my family; even spending time with all our schoolmates the other night. And you’re a part of that—a rather integral part, if I’m being honest—and I don’t want to mess that up. I’m not going to be here for much longer, so anything we started wouldn’t last. It _couldn’t_. It would end, and then it would be awkward, and when I visited again everything would be different and uncomfortable and I don’t want that. I want to be able to have this, sometimes. To come back to. Does that make sense?”

Harry bit his lip, absorbing everything Draco had laid out before him, and then sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I worried about that when Ginny and I split—like, with the Weasleys, and with our friends. I mean it was fine in the end, obviously, but it was a risk I don’t know if I would have taken if I hadn’t been sixteen and an idiot when we got together.” He gave a wry half-smile.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Draco said loftily, trying to lift the mood. “I, personally, made _excellent_ decisions at sixteen.”

It worked, and Harry laughed. “You’re awful and I don’t know why I like you.” He looked at Draco, momentarily serious again. “We can still be friends, though, right?”

“Are we friends?” Draco asked, genuinely surprised.

“Seriously?” Harry gave Draco an exasperated look. “We’ve hung out like five times this week!!”

“Well yes, but, with family! And other friends! Not because _we’re_ friends.”

“I mean assumed we were at least on our way there; I literally invited you out, what, three separate times? Do you really think I would have asked after the first time if I didn’t want to?”

Draco gaped for a second before shutting his mouth. He hadn’t, he realized, ever really made a friend. Was this how it happened? When he was a child he had just… been repeatedly thrown together with the same handful of other pureblood children until they’d essentially become friends by default. “Ah,” he finally said. “Well then. Yes. I would like it if we could be friends.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Good.” 

Draco felt something glow in his chest and glanced around the space they were in to distract himself from the feeling. It wasn’t huge, perhaps the size of one of the larger Hogwarts classrooms, with long tables and neat stacks of wood filling most of the space. It smelled of the sawdust that coated the floor, and there were carved toys in various states of completion scattered across the tabletops, some of them already moving about.

“Since you’re here, do you want a tour?” Harry asked.

“I’d like that,” Draco answered. As he followed Harry around the space, listening to him explain his processes and the uses of various tools and spells, Draco felt a warm sense of contentment settle over him. He was _friends_ with Harry Potter. It was something he’d wanted since he’d been a child, but not something he’d ever thought he’d actually _have_. And, he thought as he watched him catch a wooden dragonfly as it tried to dive off one of the tables, laughing, it was... _nice._ And, yes, he still wanted to kiss him, rather a lot if he was honest, but it was fine. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be super honest: I write these a few days in advance and normally I reread them one last time for errors before posting, but I slept literally one hour last night and am so tired I might be sick, and I didn't want to miss a day, so it is what it is.


	11. December 11

He could not, in fact, do this, Draco thought morosely as he drifted back to consciousness. He’d woken up sweaty and turned on, having dreamed of hot skin over firm muscles, dextrous fingers, burning green eyes, and wild hair turned wilder through far-from-friendly-activities. Well, not _not_ friendly, per se. Not antagonistic, at any rate. But certainly not platonic. He blushed at the memories and then held a pillow to his face and groaned in frustration, willing his erection to go down. _You will not wank over Harry Potter,_ he told himself firmly. _He is your friend, and you will_ not.

His resolve lasted less than thirty seconds, and he cursed his stupid brain even as he pulled himself to a rapid, spine-tingling completion. Determinedly, he decided that he would not allow himself to think of Potter for the rest of the day.

When he’d showered and gone downstairs, he found that he had been press-ganged into writing party invitations for the morning. His hand twinged with phantom pains before he even started, but he resigned himself to his fate. It could be worse. He’d lived with Voldemort. 

Once he’d finished breakfast, he settled himself at the dining room table with his mother, a stack of embossed parchment, and a quill. 

“Alright, where would you like me to start?” 

“I’ve written up a template invitation and split the guest list in two; you may start with this half,” Narcissa replied with the air of someone bestowing a great favor.

Draco held back an eye roll and perused the list, which appeared to be the latter part of the alphabet. Several names stood out to him—Parkinson, Zabini, a somewhat surprising number of Weasleys, and, of course, Potter. _So much for not thinking about him_ , he sighed inwardly. Then, with a jolt, he noticed that Harry’s name was not listed alone, but rather with a clearly written ‘and guest.’ An uncomfortable sinking feeling settled itself in his stomach. Skimming the list again, he saw that all of the solo names—including Pansy and Blaise—had the same addendum. Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

Trying to distract himself, he commented blithely to his mother, “There are rather a lot of Weasleys on this list, aren’t there?”

She gave him a disapproving look. “They’re Harry’s family, and Harry is our family. Of course they’re invited.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Draco said, feeling unfairly chastened. “I spent time with some of them the other night at the Three Broomsticks, and it was perfectly fine.” He thought back on George draping himself over Pansy and cringed. “Mostly.” 

Narcissa raised a questioning eyebrow and he grinned, realizing that his gossip would more than make up for his perceived misstep in his mother’s eyes. “George—the one who owns the joke shop? Has apparently become rather… _close_ with Pansy. And was not particularly subtle about it.”

“Is that so? How interesting.” Her voice stayed calm, but Draco could see the glint of intrigue in her eyes. She never had been able to resist a bit of scandal, and although the unexpected pairing wasn’t quite that, it would certainly horrify Pansy’s parents if they knew. George Weasley might be a pureblood (if the Parkinsons even cared about such things anymore; he wasn’t honestly sure where the elders stood), but he was also _new money_. “I suppose they aren’t the only people to make an unexpected match in recent years. Did you hear that Mrs. Nott seems to have struck up an acquaintance with Xenophilius Lovegood?”

“Good lord, really? I can’t even imagine.”

“And how was everybody else keeping?” Narcissa queried, pointedly not asking directly what other gossip he might have to share but obviously angling for whatever juicy details he might be willing to divulge.

“Well, Gregory Goyle is in what seems to be a rather serious relationship with a Hufflepuff.”

“That doesn’t surprise me as much as I would have expected,” Narcissa said thoughtfully. 

“And Blaise admitted that he actually went out with Harry a few times,” Draco added, trying to hide his less-than-casual interest in the news.

“Did you not know that?” she asked, sounding surprised. “I thought it was common knowledge. They were photographed out together several times.”

Draco tried not to seethe at the fact that apparently the whole world was aware of Harry Potter’s private life, but no one had thought to fill him in. Not that it was any of his business, he supposed. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though he should have been informed. Sighing and trying not to look too hard at that particular feeling, he went back to his stack of invitations.

They worked quietly for a while, listening to the gentle strains of the classical Christmas music that Narcissa had set to play on the wireless. Draco carefully calligraphed each piece of parchment, settling into a rhythm and enjoying watching each precise curl and swoop of script take shape. He hadn’t been looking forward to his task at all, but he had forgotten how satisfying he found formal writing. The more casual scrawl of his regular correspondence just wasn’t the same.

His serenity came to an abrupt halt as he reached Potter’s name on the list and once again encountered that vexing ‘and guest.’ Trying to sound casual, Draco asked “Has Harry mentioned who he’ll be bringing as his plus one?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Narcissa answered, not looking up from her own invitation.

He twirled his quill a bit, watching her face. “It’s just, it seems as though most of the people he’s close with are already invited, that’s all.”

Narcissa kept her eyes focused downward, although Draco would swear he could see a slight crinkling at the corners of her eyes. “I suppose so.”

He tried again. “Have you heard him mention anyone in particular recently? If there was someone, I’d think he would have said so, since he’s here so often.”

Finally, Narcissa put down her quill and looked up at him. Her eyes were twinkling, and suddenly he was very sure that she and Andromeda had discussed what had happened yesterday morning. “You seem awfully interested in Harry’s love life, dear. Why don’t you ask him, if you’re so curious?”

Draco blushed furiously. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Determinedly, he snatched a clean sheet of parchment and began concentrating very hard on his work, ignoring the quiet laughter coming from across the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Narcissa and Draco interacting with each other is such a joy. I cut out like 200 words of unnecessary description of the dining room from this when rereading because I realized that their conversation was much more interesting than talking about where the dishes in their china cabinet came from. Anyway, Happy Hanukkah to those of you who celebrate!


	12. December 12

Draco wiped his hands on his apron and looked around. Now that the bread rolls were in the oven, all that was left to do was put the salad together, a task which Andromeda was already halfway through. “Would you like any help?” he asked.

“Do you want to make a dressing?” 

“I can manage that.” He collected the ingredients he would need—olive oil, lemon, white wine vinegar, some spices—and got to work. 

“I didn’t know you could cook,” came a voice from quite nearby, making him jump. 

“Merlin, don’t startle a man with a knife in his hand!” Draco berated, midway through slicing a lemon in half. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Harry had joined them in the kitchen and was leaning on the counter behind him. He turned back to the task at hand. “And of course I know how to cook; I live alone. How did you think I fed myself?”

“Takeout?” Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry shoved off the counter, moving around the kitchen island and sliding onto one of the tall stools. He leaned his elbows on the surface, watching Draco work.

“Would you like to stop getting in the way and open whatever you brought tonight, Harry?” Andromeda asked from where she was still chopping vegetables at the other end of the island. 

He laughed, but left the stool to retrieve a bottle of red wine, which he uncorked with a wave of his hand. He poured four glasses, one of which Narcissa promptly claimed, appearing in the kitchen as silently as Harry had.

“You all need to make more noise when you move,” Draco opined. 

“The table is set when you’re ready,” Narcissa told them, ignoring him. 

“Ten minutes for the bread, and we’ll be done.” Andromeda transferred the rest of the tomatoes she’d been slicing into the salad bowl and accepted a glass of wine from Harry. “Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and Draco took a sip, pleasantly surprised by the mellow flavor. “So are dinners like this a frequent event?” he asked. He’d been curious ever since the matter-of-fact way that Harry had told Andromeda ‘see you on Tuesday’ over the weekend.

“Harry comes for dinner every Tuesday,” Narcissa confirmed. “We take it as an excuse to put in a bit more effort.”

Draco, who hadn’t experienced anything but excellent meals since he’d arrived, laughed. “Yes, I can see that; you’re normally all so lazy.” Andromeda swatted at him with a dish towel. Draco dodged and then looked at Harry curiously. “You weren’t here last week, though.”

“Yeah, Ron needed some help with Rose. Hermione had to work late unexpectedly.”

“Rose?”

“Their daughter.”

“I had no idea they had children,” Draco commented, slightly surprised. It hadn’t been mentioned at the bar the other night, as far as he could remember.

Harry smiled and, as though reading Draco’s mind, told him “They have a rule that they aren’t allowed to talk about her at pub night. That’s their ‘grown up time.’ But yeah, she’s about six months old. She’s great.”

“I forgot to ask, what did Ron need help for? Was everything okay?” Andromeda asked.

“Yeah, just, she’s teething,” Harry responded, and both she and Narcissa winced. “She’s fine most of the time,” he added, “but she was having a particularly rough day and he was kind of overwhelmed.”

A timer dinged, and Draco moved to take the rolls from the oven. They looked golden brown and perfect, and he breathed in the scent of them appreciatively. 

“I’ll go fetch Teddy,” Narcissa said as the other three moved the food into the dining room.

Dinner was lovely. Andromeda and Draco had put together a spaghetti carbonara in addition to the salad and rolls, and it paired very nicely with the wine Harry had contributed. The conversation was largely dominated by Teddy, whose class had begun a new unit on the solar system and who was therefore positively bubbling over with space facts. 

Draco watched as Harry engaged with enthusiasm, asking questions and giving space for Teddy to share as much as he’d like, obviously enjoying the conversation just as much as Teddy was. Draco was consistently amazed by Harry and Teddy’s relationship. Harry treated Teddy very much like a _person_ , without the condescension or sense of humoring him that many adults treated children with. There was something about it that made Draco feel warm inside.

Sitting and watching the pair converse while Andromeda and Narcissa exchanged bits of news, occasionally looping him in to share tidbits about people he knew or ask about his upcoming plans was, again, bittersweet. Basking in the feelings of family, of belonging, but knowing that it was only for now; that he would be leaving in two short weeks. Still, he would do his best to enjoy it while he could.

Although he chimed in to the conversation here or there, Draco spent most of the meal observing fondly as Teddy gesticulated wildly while explaining things like the massive size and power of the sun to an apparently-rapt Harry. Harry glanced over at him from time to time with a conspiratorial smile, winking at Draco when he caught him hiding a grin at Teddy’s increasingly-fanciful interpretations of the facts. Draco did his very best to pretend that those smiles weren’t pushing him toward a complete meltdown. He didn’t realize that his inner turmoil was obvious until he caught his mother and aunt giving him twin amused glances, causing him to blush and turn his full attention to his pasta.

The thing was that every time he looked at Harry, so obviously happy and in his element, Draco felt unmoored. His tousled hair, his sparkling eyes, the way he seemed at ease in his body—they added up to more than just physical appeal. They highlighted who he was as a person: his easygoing, friendly way of existing, living so much in the moment. Draco couldn’t imagine living that way, the open vulnerability of it, and he envied it. He _wanted_ it. He wanted _Harry._

He had meant what he said when he’d told Harry that he didn’t want to ruin the bubble of comfort he was building here with his family, that he didn’t want to make everything worse in the long run. Sitting here now, though, he had the horrible realization that he was likely going to feel the tug of want and the ache of separation no matter what he did. The only way to spare himself would be to purposefully build emotional distance—to keep even their friendship at arm's length. The thought made his stomach churn, and he knew that there was no way he could bring himself to do that. 

Over dessert, Narcissa and Andromeda’s conversation turned toward the upcoming party—as it tended to do, since party planning was one of the great passions of his mother’s life. Their exchange mostly consisted of Andromeda trying to talk Narcissa down from her more over-the-top ideas. One of the plans that was nixed, much to Draco’s relief, was that of using live fairies. “Enchanted Muggle lights look beautiful,” Andromeda said firmly, “and the fairy unions are a nightmare to deal with.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Draco commented as this bit of conversation filtered through his personal musings and captured his attention. His mother shot him a dirty look, but finally capitulated when Teddy broke from his description of the rings of Saturn to say “I love Muggle lights! We saw amazing ones in London, didn’t we, Cousin Draco?”

“We did,” he agreed with a smile. “They were beautiful.” Turning to his mother, he added, “ _and_ they didn’t keep leaving dark spots because they went off to flirt with the other lights.” He caught Harry trying to hide an amused grin out of the corner of his eye.

When dessert was done, the dishes cleared away, and Teddy sent to do his homework (pouting and dragging his feet all the way), Harry pulled Draco aside. “Hey, so I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on Sunday,” he said without preamble.

“Okay...” Draco answered, feeling suddenly wrongfooted. Shit. Had Harry noticed Draco watching him and changed his mind? Did he not want to be friends after all? 

Harry must have picked up on his tone, but apparently mistook the reason, because he hastened to add, “I totally get that you aren’t interested in starting anything, like, romantic, but I’d still like to spend some time with you while you’re here, if you’re up for it. Just, grab drinks or something.”

“Oh!” Draco’s relief was tinged with disappointment. He tried to tamp it down. He’d been very clear with Harry that he didn’t want to date; of course he wouldn’t be asking him out. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who would ignore such clearly set boundaries, and he wasn’t privy to Draco’s conflicted musings over dinner. “I— yes. I’d like that. When were you thinking?”

Harry’s smile was wide and genuine and made Draco want to kick the version of himself who had set those boundaries. Hard. In the shin. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Let me check my busy schedule,” Draco deadpanned, trying to maintain some semblance of his usual attitude rather than coming off like a pining schoolboy. “Yes, I’m free,” he added with mild exasperation when Harry looked a bit unsure. Honestly. _You can take the boy out of Gryffindor_ , he sighed to himself.

Harry flicked him in the shoulder, but his smile returned. “Eight okay? There’s a place over near that coffee shop I took you that’s pretty good. About half a step up from the Three Broomsticks, I’d say, but they’ve got a pretty decent menu.”

“What, no Hog’s Head?” 

“As much as I love a good warm ale in a dirty glass,” Harry smirked, and Draco laughed. “So, see you tomorrow, then?

“See you tomorrow, Harry.”

The floo flared, and Harry was gone. Draco sighed. He was utterly, completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really have anything to add today. Thanks for still being here!


	13. December 13

The bar Harry had selected was unremarkable but pleasant. Dark-stained wooden booths with ceiling-high backs separating them lined one wall, and a row of high-top tables took up the space between them and the bar. Candles flickered on each table, giving the space a warm glow, and the spicy smell of pine emanated from garlands draped along the room’s edges. 

Harry was already standing at the bar when Draco entered, and the smile he shared thawed Draco more than the warm air that enveloped him as he closed the door behind himself. “First round is on me,” he said, and Draco accepted gratefully.

Once they’d received their drinks—they’d both decided to try the house take on an old fashioned, which featured a peaty scotch rather than the traditional bourbon—Harry led them to one of the tall tables. Draco fiddled with his glass as he realized that, much like on their impromptu coffee date, he had no idea what to talk about—especially since he would maybe prefer for this to be an _actual_ date rather than a friendly round of drinks. “So, how did you find this place?” he settled on, not wanting to start out on an awkward note.

“Just wandering around, honestly,” Harry said with a shrug. “When I first moved to Hogsmeade I spent a lot of time just walking, getting a feel for it as an adult and not a student.” He grinned. “Weirdly, Honeydukes isn’t the only attraction. Who knew?”

“Merlin, I haven’t been to Honeydukes in ages. I should stop in sometime, maybe pick up some sweets for Teddy.” He smiled, remembering afternoons full of sampling the strangest new confections with Greg and Vince, back before their world got so complicated.

“He’d definitely love you for it, but Narcissa and Andromeda might not. He’s a handful when he’s got too much sugar in his system.”

“He’s a handful anyways,” Draco said wryly. 

Harry smiled fondly. “Yeah, but he’s still pretty great.”

“He is,” Draco agreed. “Did you move to Hogsmeade to be nearer to him? I think Andromeda might have said something along those lines.”

“Yes and no,” Harry replied. “My workshop was already here, and I had the flat upstairs, I just didn’t use it that much. You know I own the old Black house on Grimmauld Place?” 

“I remember something about that, yes.”

“Right. So I was there, sharing it with Ron and Hermione, but they moved into their own place after they got married and Hermione got pregnant and it was just… way too big, on my own. So I started staying here more and more, and when Andromeda and Narcissa bought their house, I decided to make it permanent.”

“What happened to the Black house?” Draco asked curiously.

“Nothing really. It’s still there, and I’ll sometimes use it if I want to have a party or host dinner or something, but mostly it’s just empty. Doesn’t feel right to get rid of it, though, you know?”

Draco thought about the Manor, and how hard it had been for his mother to finally let it go, even after everything that had happened there. “Yes, that makes sense.”

Harry then asked about Draco’s home in New York—what his flat and neighborhood and friends were like. Draco enjoyed telling Harry all the things he loved about the city, but he got a bit stuck on the ‘friends’ part; he knew he had acquaintances and colleagues, but that was really as far as it went. He’d never even really tried for more. Thinking about it made him uncomfortable, so he changed the subject, asking Harry more about Ron and Hermione and their life now. They talked a bit about Rose, and how much Harry loved her and how hilarious he found it to watch his friends try to navigate parenthood. 

“I mean don’t get me wrong, they’re doing a great job, but half the time I go over there, Ron’s hair is sticking up in twelve different directions and he’s got pureed carrots smeared across his face.” Draco gave Harry’s own hair a pointed look and smirked. Harry rolled his eyes, but looked entertained despite himself. “ _Anyway_ ,” he went on, “Hermione’s obviously done way too much reading on parenting, and she starts to panic every time poor Rose’s development isn’t perfectly aligned with what her books told her it should be, even though everyone keeps telling her that all babies are different. I know I shouldn’t be entertained by watching her cope with something so unpredictable, but I just can’t help it.”

“Revel in your smugness,” Draco advised him. “You can’t control your feelings, so you might as well enjoy them.”

Harry looked at him for a moment too long and then gave him a small smile. “Yeah, suppose so.” 

The smile made Draco’s chest clench, and he wondered if he should just come out and say that he thought perhaps he’d changed his mind, that maybe he wanted to pursue this after all. “Do you ever think of having children of your own?” he asked instead.

Harry _hmm_ ed. “Maybe someday. For now I’m just really enjoying having this time with Teddy, you know? He’s at a really fun age, and hanging out with him gives me an excuse to do all sorts of stuff I didn’t get to do when I was a kid.”

“You always say things like that,” Draco observed.

“Like what?”

“About your childhood, and things you missed out on.”

“Oh, I mean yeah, I wasn’t exactly welcome when Dudley went to do the fun stuff, was I?”

Draco gave him a confused look. “Dudley?”

Harry looked equally confused. “My cousin?” When Draco continued to look at him in bewilderment, realization crossed Harry’s face, and he laughed unhappily. “Shit, you don’t know any of this, do you? I just sort of assume people know my entire life story because of how fucking nosy the papers are.” He cringed. “I must sound so self-involved right now.” He began fidgeting restlessly with a napkin, his cheerful, open mood gone, and Draco impulsively reached out and put a hand over his, desperately wanting it back.

“Hey. No. I’m sure twelve-year-old me would have thought so,” he said, trying to inject some humor to lighten the mood, “but I promise I’m much more aware of the invasiveness of the press, now. It’s why I’ve never bothered having the _Prophet_ sent to me at home. There was so much horribly intrusive tripe printed about me and my family after the war, I just stopped following any of it.”

“I tried,” Harry said, looking down at his hands but not pulling away from Draco. “Unfortunately, that didn’t stop strangers from stopping me in the street to comment on things that they never should have known in the first place. The press doesn't bother me as much now, but it’s only because I make an effort to be as boring as possible.” He finally looked up, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners as the beginnings of a smile returned to his face. “Also, Hermione threatened to sue them for so much money the paper would fold if they invaded Teddy’s privacy, so they won’t risk coming near me when we’re together anymore. I may be a public figure, but he sure as hell isn’t.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “How very Slytherin of her.” He squeezed Harry’s hand one more time before letting go and sitting back. “So, do you mind giving me the abridged version of ‘the Harry Potter Story According to the Press’”?

Harry groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I almost wish you’d read it in the papers… but alright, may as well do the highlights.” He proceeded to give Draco a quick rundown of his truly terrible childhood, sounding almost bored even as he described the cartoonishly terrible behavior of his aunt and uncle. When he’d finished, Draco just stared for a moment before blinking a few times.

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“I have no idea what to say to any of that.”

Harry laughed. “Just don’t tell me how brave I am or anything and we’re good.”

Draco raised a brow. “When have I _ever_ given you any sort of compliment?”

“Fair point.” Harry grinned. He seemed extremely happy to let the subject drop, so Draco followed his lead and they moved on to less fraught topics.

Draco bought them a second round shortly thereafter, and then Harry grabbed them a third while Draco was in the loo and couldn’t object. Their conversation flowed easily, something that was becoming less surprising to Draco each time it happened. He really liked Harry, he thought again as the evening wore on. _Really_ liked him. He was passionate and funny and affectionate and self deprecating in a way that made it obvious that he wasn’t just being modest; he truly didn’t think that he was anything special. To him, his role in the war was mostly incidental, and he hadn’t done much of note since. He clearly had no idea of the magnetic appeal he radiated. 

A warm fuzziness—a combination of alcohol and affection—spread through Draco as the night wore on, lowering his inhibitions. He could feel his gaze lingering on Harry’s face, his lips, his throat, longer than it probably should, but he didn’t try very hard to rein it in. When his leg brushed inadvertently against Harry’s under the table, he didn’t move it away. Once or twice, as Harry licked a drop of whisky off of his lips, Draco had to close his eyes for a moment to keep from leaning across the table and taking over the task with his own tongue. He kept trying to get up the courage to actually tell Harry ‘ _Forget what I said, I want this,’_ but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. Every time he got close, a little voice in the back of his head told him, again, _this is a terrible idea._

After they had stretched their third round as long as they reasonably could, Draco reluctantly said that they should probably go. His last night of drunkenness was too fresh in his mind; he _still_ couldn’t remember what he and Harry had talked about at the end of the night, and he would rather not have a repeat performance at this point. They exited the bar and stood close together on the sidewalk, their breath visible in the cold winter air. The chill made Draco shudder, but he couldn’t bring himself to say goodnight or move away.

“Draco,” Harry said, after a long moment of silence, looking up at him. His expression was complicated, as though he were debating something with himself. “I—’ He bit his lip, searching Draco’s eyes. “I really don’t want to make things awkward,” he finally said, “and this was really nice and I don’t want to ruin it but…” He trailed off, glancing down toward the frost-touched sidewalk.

“But?” Draco prompted him, feeling his heart rate increase. He knew where this was going. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. And even though part of him still felt like he probably should, he really, really didn’t want to stop it. 

“But this felt pretty date-like,” Harry said determinedly, meeting his eyes once more, “and I really want to kiss you right now.”

Despite his suspicions, the open declaration made Draco go warm all over. He remembered, for a moment, his own words from earlier in the evening. “You can’t control your feelings, so you might as well enjoy them,” he murmured under his breath, smiling wryly. Fuck it.

“Sorry?” Harry asked.

“Just kiss me,” Draco answered.

He registered a brief flash of surprise on Harry’s face, as though he had been expecting more resistance, but he moved forward without hesitation, cupping a hand behind Draco’s neck and capturing his lips. 

It was soft and warm and lovely and Draco thought it might actually kill him. Harry’s lips moved gently against his, sweet and smoky, a memory of sugar and scotch over something that was just... _him_. Draco leaned into it, bringing his hands to Harry’s waist, the rough wool of the coat beneath his fingers grounding him as his mind threatened to float away entirely. His tongue darted out just slightly, flickering against Harry’s lips, and Harry met him: a touch, a hint, a promise. It was, Draco decided, the most perfect kiss he’d ever had. He bit Harry’s full bottom lip lightly before pulling back, and Harry shivered. “So… _not_ just friends, then?” he asked, sounding hesitant but hopeful.

Draco smiled ruefully, running a hand through his hair. “Apparently not.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “So can I take you out again soon, maybe? On, like, an actual date where we both admit that’s what it is ahead of time?”

Draco snorted. “ _Yes_ , fine. Would you like to have dinner on Friday?”

“I’d love that.”

“Alright then. I’ll floo you.” Giving in to temptation, he leaned down and kissed Harry once more, feather-light and lingering. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Draco.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, grinning giddily at Draco as he took a few backwards steps before finally turning to walk away. Draco watched him go, wondering just how badly this was going to hurt, in the end, but thinking that it would probably be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took them long enough. Anyway, we’re halfway through and it’s looking like we’re gonna end up at 30-35K total? We shall see!
> 
> I am playing fast and loose with privacy laws here re: Teddy but whatever. It's fiction.


	14. December 14

On Thursday, Narcissa manipulated Draco into going to Diagon Alley with her, sighing about how his visit was more than halfway over and she’d _barely_ gotten to see him at all. It wasn’t remotely true, of course, but he folded quickly nevertheless. He was still fairly floating from the night before, so he didn’t bother to put up much of a fight. He hadn’t been to Diagon Alley in years, and anyway, he thought, it would be nice to spend some time with her out of the house. 

There was a long shopping list of things for the party: table linens, party favors, wine, more decorations that would fit Merlin-knew-where, and new robes, among other things. It was excessive, and they both knew it, but it made her happy and so he didn’t say anything. Draco was still mildly surprised by the warm welcomes they received in every shop they entered, but he supposed that time and money could heal almost anything. 

Narcissa took her time, carefully evaluating her options in each store, asking for Draco’s opinions on things like whether he thought gold or silver embroidery on the napkins would go better with the rest of the decor and whether they should get ever-burning candles or something more traditional. His favorite stop was Twilfitt and Tattings, where she modeled an assortment of semi-formal robes for him, finally settling on a deep green velvet set that made her pale skin shine. They even made a stop in Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, which took Draco by surprise, but apparently the store’s Christmas crackers were extremely sought after; Narcissa had evidently reserved a number of them months in advance.

When Draco was sure they had spent half of the remaining Malfoy fortune, they stopped for a late lunch at a small cafe. Draco was sipping at a glass of wine and gazing out the window, his thoughts drifting back to the night before and that perfect kiss at the end of the evening, when Narcissa pounced.

“You look rather happy today,” she began, looking innocent.

He turned from the window to face her. “Well, I’m having a nice time.”

She took a prim bite of her lunch, chewed, and swallowed. “You looked rather happy when you got in, last night, as well.” 

“Did I?” Draco could feel himself flushing and hastily took another sip of wine.

“You did.” She smiled knowingly. “You and Harry seem to be getting on well.”

He set his glass down. “Mother, please don’t.” His good mood was faltering. He didn’t want to discuss this with her. He didn’t want to overthink it. He just wanted to enjoy it while it lasted, not worry about how it was going to end or how it could potentially affect anyone else if he let it go too far. It was between him and Harry, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Her smile dropping, Narcissa sighed. “Draco, darling. I’m not trying to pry.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she held up a conciliatory hand. “I swear it. I have my wishes, and you know what they are, but I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to. But Draco, I haven’t seen you this cheerful since…” she trailed off, and the words lingered, unspoken, between them. _Since before the war._

Draco exhaled. Damn her perceptiveness. “I’m enjoying getting to know him,” he conceded, fiddling with his fork, “but it’s nothing more than that.”

“Draco.”

“And even if there were, perhaps, some… mutual interest… it wouldn’t mean anything. It would just be... a nice thing to have. For a little while.”

“Draco.” Softer, this time. And then, surprising him, “Are you happy in New York, on your own? Truly?”

“Of course I am!” he answered immediately. “I’ve worked hard for the life I have there.”

“I know you have. And you should be proud of all that you’ve accomplished. But being proud isn’t the same as being happy.”

He sighed. “Mother, I know you mean well. And yes, I’m enjoying my time here, with you, and Andromeda, and Teddy… and with Harry. But I’m not interested in uprooting my life. I like New York. I like my job. I’m… content. It’s more than I ever thought I would have.”

Face unreadable, Narcissa reached out and pushed a strand of hair back from his forehead. He closed his eyes. “Alright,” she said, finally, dropping her hand. “I just have one favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Take some time to think about your future. Not just next year, or even five years from now—your whole future. And ask yourself, are you going to be content with your current life forever? Or are you, some day, going to want something more?”

Draco bit his lip, but nodded in resignation. It wasn’t as though he would be able to help it, now that it had been said. “Fine. I promise I’ll think about it.” He drained his wine and looked down at the empty glass morosely. Then a thought occurred to him, and he perked up. “We still need to go choose wine and liquor, don’t we?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes at him, but gestured for the check.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but I promise I’ll make up for it tomorrow!


	15. December 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s where your E rating comes in, so if you were reading _despite_ rather than _for_ the sexy bits, t’is the season to skip a chapter and ask me for a SFW version 😉

As Draco had been the one to suggest dinner, he’d taken it upon himself to make the arrangements. He’d ventured into the nearest Muggle town to use the computers in the library (and Merlin, how he missed the internet! He’d been happy to turn off his cell phone for a while, but the lack of easy access to information was beginning to get to him) and done a bit of research before settling on a well-reviewed Ethiopian restaurant in London. 

The restaurant was small and intimate, decorated in muted reds and golds and bathed in a warm glow from the woven pendant lights scattered across the ceiling. Harry, as it turned out, had never had Ethiopian cuisine, and was absolutely delighted by the whole experience. They sipped at honey wine and shared a platter of vegetable dishes, Harry commenting on each flavor and teasing Draco about the unlikely image of him eating with his hands. 

Now that Draco had given up on his reluctance to admit to or pursue his interest in Harry, at least for the time being, their conversation was light and open and full of teasing flirtation. Draco made a point of touching Harry faux-casually whenever he could manage—a brush of fingertips here, a thumb swiping a drop of wine from a lip there—and drawing attention to his best features at every opportunity, stretching and lounging and basically doing whatever he could think of until Harry looked like he was contemplating just pulling him over the table. Not, Draco thought as he surveyed the way that Harry’s biceps moved under his thin jumper, that he was doing much better.

“Oh!” Harry said as they waited for their server to bring them more wine and injera, distracting Draco from a deep contemplation of Harry’s neck and how it would look with a line of love bites down it. “I meant to tell you! I finally got Ron to tell me about that conversation that neither of us remember from last week.”

“Oh lord,” Draco said, effectively pulled back into the moment. “Do I want to know?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of hilarious. Before I tell you, though, will you tell me what you thought you might have said that had you so freaked out?”

“Hmm.” Draco considered. “Only if you tell me what _you_ thought you might have said, as well.”

“Fair enough.” Harry grinned, a dimple appearing in one cheek that Draco found he very much wanted to lick. “I was pretty much just afraid that I’d hit on you and made a fool of myself. You?”

Draco smiled; he’d suspected that might be the case, but it was both relieving and amusing to have it confirmed. “The same, more or less.”

“I thought that might be it, given where we are right now.” Harry grinned again and shook his head. “Which is pretty funny in retrospect, since apparently neither of us would have minded.”

“Apparently. Now, care to tell me what it was really about?”

Harry’s eyes twinkled good-humoredly in the low light and began, his voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller. “So, I was still kind of panicking even after we’d talked, because I didn’t know who else might have heard and I was afraid something might get back to you. Ron was a total arse about it at first—kept refusing to tell me and laughing when I’d get mad about it—but he finally gave in when I threatened to stop babysitting.”

“Which you never would have done.”

“Which I never would have done,” Harry agreed. “Anyway, like I said, he _finally_ told me, and—” He paused dramatically.

“And?” “— _and,_ it turns out… we were talking about Quidditch.”

Draco stared. “Are you serious?”

“Yup! Quidditch talk. For like twenty minutes straight. Apparently, we both had a lot to say about how Puddlemere is performing this year.”

Draco reflected on his conversation earlier that night with Blaise on why, exactly, he and Harry were incompatible. “That,” he said, “is deeply ironic.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well,” Draco drawled, deciding _what the hell, in for a knut and all that._ “Earlier, I might have gotten a tiny bit irritated at Blaise for having gone out with you and not told me about it. Which may or may not have been rooted in latent jealousy.”

Harry grinned. “May or may not, huh?”

“Most likely not,” Draco said breezily. “Anyway, he told me that it didn’t work out because you had, and I quote, ‘too little in common in some areas and too much in others.’ And the ‘too little’ included his love of fashion and your love of Quidditch.”

“Hah! I mean, he’s not wrong. He spent the entire game I took him to trying to talk me into leaving by bribing me with sex. What did he mean by ‘too much’ in common, though?”

Draco tamped down his not-so-latent jealousy at the idea of Blaise propositioning Harry and went for the kill. “A shared preference for, shall we say, giving rather than receiving.” Harry looked confused for a split second before his eyes went wide, and Draco went on, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I remember thinking how completely wasted on him you were.” He took a sip of his wine, blinking innocently.

Harry bit down on a muffled groan. “Just curious: are you actively trying to kill me?” 

“Hardly. That really _would_ be a waste.”

*****

The heated looks Harry kept shooting at Draco for the (short) remainder of their meal meant that by the time they’d gotten outside, Draco was about ready to pull him into an alleyway and just strip him down right there. Harry, thankfully, had a better idea. “Come back to mine?” he asked, reeling Draco in by the waist and kissing him, voice hopeful and promising at once.

“What’s in it for me?” Draco asked, coy words belied by his slight breathlessness.

“Finding out just how wasted my _giving nature_ was on Blaise.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Harry Apparated them into what Draco assumed was his flat; he didn’t bother taking the time to look around and make sure, since Harry immediately reclaimed his lips once they’d landed. “You,” he said between kisses, “are an absolute. Fucking. Tease.”

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through,” Draco managed as Harry’s lips travelled down to his throat. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Soon,” Harry promised, biting at the muscle where Draco’s neck met his shoulder. Pulling back, he grinned in a way that almost made Draco’s knees go out from under him. “I’ve got other things I want to do first.” He pushed Draco backward, and Draco surmised from the fact that he landed on a mattress that they must have Apparated not only into Harry’s flat, but directly into his bedroom. He tried to make a joke about Harry’s eagerness, but, much to his chagrin, all that came out was a desperate whimper.

Harry stepped between his legs where they hung off the bed, and Draco propped himself up on one elbow, reaching out his other arm to catch the front of Harry’s shirt and pull him down into a kiss. Harry leant over Draco, bracing himself on his palms as he kissed him back, deep and urgent. Bracing one knee on the mattress, he righted himself and started undoing the buttons down the front of Draco’s shirt one by one, finally sliding it over his shoulders, baring his chest to the cool air. Draco levered himself up and pulled it from his arms, tossing it aside before sliding his hands up under Harry’s jumper and t-shirt, caressing hot skin over firm muscle. He pushed the fabric up far enough that he could kiss Harry’s stomach and chest, and Harry shivered before reaching behind himself to pull both jumper and tee over his head in one swift movement. His glasses went with them, and Draco laughed a little against his skin, glancing up.

“Do you need those?” he asked, licking a stripe up Harry’s abs.

“Not much,” Harry managed to choke out before shoving Draco away, encouraging him to move further up the bed.

Draco obliged, sliding up until he was properly settled with his head on the pillows. Harry followed, climbing over him to brace on his forearms, his knees between Draco’s legs and his chest brushing Draco’s chest, every touch of skin on skin lighting Draco up from the inside. He leaned down and kissed Draco again. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathed against his lips before dipping to once again run his mouth over Draco’s neck. “You have no idea.”

“You’re welcome to tell me,” Draco answered on a gasp as Harry began to move, biting his clavicle before kissing down his chest. When he licked over one nipple, Draco’s hands flew to his hair of their own volition. “Fucking hell.”

He could feel Harry grin. “Interesting. We’ll come back to that.” He kept moving, easing back on his knees, mouth and hands traveling down Draco’s stomach, causing him to inhale sharply. “Ticklish?” Harry asked, sounding delighted.

“Bite me,” Draco answered acerbically, yelping when Harry did. Before he could form a complaint, however, Harry’s nimble fingers were undoing his trousers, sliding under the waistband to caress his hip bones. 

“This okay?” Harry asked, glancing up, his mouth mere inches from where Draco’s cock was straining at his clothes.

Draco leaned up enough to glare down at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

Harry gave a little shrug and smiled. “Consent is important.”

Draco collapsed onto his back with a whine. “Just take my fucking trousers off, will you?”

Harry huffed out a laugh and did as he was told, sliding off the bed briefly to pull their shoes and socks off before slipping Draco’s trousers and pants down and off, leaving him completely naked. Climbing back onto the mattress, he knelt for a moment, running his hands up and down Draco’s thighs, making him shiver. His gaze was hungry as he took in Draco’s prone form. “God,” he breathed, before unceremoniously moving to lie on his stomach and taking Draco into his mouth.

“Merlin fucking shit Christ _fuck_ ,” Draco swore, arching off the bed in surprise. Harry’s snort of laughter vibrated through him, but he didn’t stop, instead sliding slowly back, running his tongue over the underside of Draco’s cock before swirling it around the tip and sinking back down again. Draco groaned and bent his knees to brace his feet on the bed. Harry’s hot, wet mouth continued to move, slow and teasing, forcing Draco higher and higher but never letting him near the precipice. Draco tried to thrust upward, but Harry draped one arm over his hips, holding him in place. “Now who’s a tease?” Draco bit out as Harry did something particularly wicked with his tongue.

Harry did pull off this time, grinning mischievously. “It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through,” he quoted, and Draco groaned, throwing an arm across his face, covering his eyes. Still, Harry apparently decided to take mercy, because the next thing he said was “There’s lube in the bedside drawer, toss it down here, will you?” Draco turned halfway onto his side, fumbling until he got the drawer open and found a small bottle, which he chucked at Harry’s head rather harder than he intended to before flopping back down. Harry caught it with seeker-fast reflexes and laughed as he popped open the lid. 

Draco returned his arm to its place over his face as Harry once again slid his mouth slowly down his length. This time, though, the sensation was matched with that of a slippery finger lightly massaging at his hole. Harry pulled off long enough to cast a quick cleaning charm, making Draco shiver, and then went right back to what he’d been doing, torturing Draco with slow licks and sucks as he patiently slid one and then two fingers inside, carefully working him open over the course of what Draco would have sworn was hours.

Finally, Draco couldn’t take any more. “Potter, if you don’t get out of your fucking clothes and inside of me in the next ten seconds, I will not be held responsible for whatever happens next.”

Harry grinned triumphantly. “All you had to do was ask,” he said, and Draco chucked a pillow at him. Laughing, he stood, removing his jeans and pants before moving up Draco’s body until they were face to face. “Hey there,” he said.

“I’m going to murder you,” Draco answered. Harry smirked and kissed him before lining himself up and finally, finally pushing in.

Draco’s eyes fell shut at the sensation of it—the burn, the stretch, the unbelievable fullness. It had been a few months since he’d done this, but he would swear that it had never been this intense. Wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips, he pulled him down until there was no space left between them at all. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes to find Harry’s face still inches from his, his green eyes burning. Harry leaned in, kissing him again, long and slow, and Draco let himself fall into it, sliding his hands into chaotic black curls and tugging lightly. Harry groaned, pulling back just enough to ask “Can I move?”

Draco nodded, leaning up to bite Harry’s earlobe before murmuring “Fast and hard. You’ve teased enough for one night.”

“Fair enough.” Harry pulled back and slammed back into him, and Draco’s hands flew to the bed, gripping the sheets for all he was worth as Harry proceeded to fuck him within an inch of his life. It was rough and deep and so _fucking_ good that he could barely breath. Harry pounded into him again and again and all Draco could do was lie there and take it, feeling his orgasm build with every thrust. His skin was sticky and slippery with sweat and his legs were shaking and he both never wanted it to stop and didn’t know if he could hold on.

“God, please,” he heard himself gasp, moments away from coming but needing just that tiniest bit more. Obligingly, Harry reached between them with one hand, grabbing his cock and swiftly pulling it in firm strokes until, with a yell, Draco finally fell.

Harry followed not long after, burying his face in Draco’s neck to muffle a loud groan. Sliding out, he fell to the side, collapsing next to Draco. “Fucking hell.”

Draco gave a weak laugh. His legs were still shaking, and he felt slightly lightheaded. “I hope you were planning on letting me spend the night, because the odds of my being able to move anytime soon are not at all promising.”

Harry turned onto his side, curling an arm around Draco’s waist and tangling their legs together. “I guess I’ll live,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, and Draco poked him in the side, making him laugh. “Of course I want you to stay.” Waving a lazy hand, he summoned a blanket, letting it drop over them. Draco felt sticky with sweat and sex, but as he felt his eyelids droop, he found he didn’t care. He’d deal with it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I fucking love Ethiopian food. 2) My longest chapter yet is just porn! I don’t know why I find that fact so funny. I hope you enjoyed this completely gratuitous smut; silly sex is the best sex, IMHO.


	16. December 16

Draco woke to sunlight coming from the wrong direction, and it took him a moment to shake off his confusion and realize where he was. As he blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, the unfamiliar room around him came into focus, and the memory of the night before came back to him, making him smile. He seemed to have migrated to the far edge of the mattress during the night, he noticed, and was grateful that he hadn’t fallen right off. He stretched and rolled over—grimacing and groaning slightly at the lingering discomfort of their activities—to find Harry sprawled inelegantly on his stomach. His mouth was slightly open, his legs at odd angles, and one arm was wedged under the pillow while the other lay straight, reaching out toward Draco. He looked ridiculous, and ridiculously endearing. 

He must have been sleeping lightly, because Draco’s quiet sounds and movement were enough to push him towards wakefulness. Draco watched from his pillow as Harry blinked, squinted, and finally smiled. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Draco greeted him fondly. “Sleep well?”

“I should be asking you that,” Harry responded, stretching languorously. “You’re my guest, technically.”

“Like a rock,” Draco assured him.

“Mmm.” Harry let his eyes fall back closed, and Draco reached out to push a lock of chaotic hair from his face. Harry’s lips turned up in a smile. The thought flitted across Draco’s mind that he could get used to waking up to this, but he pushed it firmly away.

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple before sitting up completely with a groan. “I should shower.”

Harry opened one eye halfway and smirked cheekily. “Can I come?”

Draco eyed him skeptically. “Are you awake enough to stand upright?”

“With the right incentive.” 

*****

The hot water was a balm on Draco’s sore muscles, and he sighed as the tension began to wash away, closing his eyes and tipping his head back into the spray. Harry stood before him, chest almost brushing his, running his hands leisurely up and down Draco’s sides. When he began to press soft kisses to Draco’s arched neck, he laughed. “That is not going to help with the efficiency of this shower.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about efficiency,” Harry replied, smiling against his skin. 

“Mmm, fair.” Draco straightened, dislodging Harry—who made a small noise of complaint—to reach for a bottle of shampoo. He inspected the label and grimaced. “Good lord. No wonder your hair won’t behave.” He set it back down, deciding that no shampoo was better than terrible shampoo. “I’m replacing that. Don’t bother arguing.”

“One night and you’re already replacing my toiletries.” Harry reached out, curling his arms around Draco’s middle and pulling his back flush against his chest before biting his shoulder lightly. “I’m not sure I want to know what else you’ll manage before you head back to New York.” 

Draco smirked. “Don’t worry, you’re not _that_ much of a fixer-upper.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Harry pinched Draco’s side and Draco wriggled, trying to shove him off. 

“I am not above resorting to violence,” Draco warned over his shoulder as Harry’s fingers lingered unnervingly close to his ribcage. 

Harry’s mouth slid from his shoulder to the dip of his neck, where he bit down again, slightly harder this time. Draco whimpered involuntarily. “I wouldn’t be opposed. But I generally prefer to be on the giving rather than receiving end of that, too, just so you know.” His voice was teasing, and Draco shivered, his mind immediately supplying him with an array of extremely interesting mental pictures. Merlin and Morgana, this man was going to kill him. Harry’s hands slid down Draco’s torso, edging toward his rapidly growing erection. “Although that’s not a hard and fast rule,” he added conversationally. Draco’s reply was nothing but an inarticulate whine. His head dropped back onto Harry’s shoulder as Harry’s hands reached their goal.

*****

“So, speaking of going back to New York,” Harry said quite a bit later as they sat at his kitchen table sipping tea, as though there hadn’t been a significant chunk of time and several orgasms since he’d last mentioned it, “when is that happening, exactly?”

Draco tried to orient himself in time. “Ten days, I think? I have a portkey booked on Boxing Day.” It was strange to think that he’d already been here over two weeks. It felt simultaneously like he’d just arrived and like he’d been here forever. 

“Damn. I hoped I’d at least get you through New Years.” Harry didn’t sound… _sad_ , exactly. Mildly disappointed, maybe, but accepting. But there was something there, Draco thought, lingering behind his eyes. He mentally shook the thought off; Harry knew just as well as he did that they’d had an expiration date before this had even begun. He watched as Harry bit into a slice of toast, chewed, and swallowed before saying, “Guess I’d better make the most of the days we’ve got, then. What have you got up today?”

“I promised the day to Pansy,” Draco told him regretfully, immediately feeling guilty for how much he wanted to throw over his friend to spend more time with Harry. “Tomorrow?”

“I’ll be at the Weasleys’. You could come?”

“I promised Teddy I’d take him Christmas shopping. And he wants to get something for you, too, so actually you aren’t invited after all.”

“Rude,” Harry said, faux-indignant but unable to suppress his smile fully.

“That is actually one of my core personality traits,” Draco informed him.

“Fair enough. What about Monday?”

“I can do Monday,” Draco agreed.

Harry grinned. “Great. Dinner out again? I’ll pick the place this time.”

“Perfect.”

They finished their breakfast, teasing and touching between bites of toast and sips of tea, and Draco contemplated how completely natural it felt. Last month, if someone had told him that he would be having an amiable morning-after breakfast with Harry Potter in a few weeks, he would have laughed in their face—and possibly given them the card for his old mind healer. Hell, if he’d been told he’d have this sort of pleasant, comfortable morning-after with _anyone,_ he would have been doubtful. While he did occasionally stay over at a date’s place, he wasn’t one to linger in the mornings. It wasn’t as though he was dashing out the door in shame, he just... didn’t have much interest in the artificial domesticity of it all. There was an intimacy in this sort of morning that couldn’t be faked or forced, and when it came down to it, he’d never much cared to try.

With Harry, he didn’t need to. It was just… there. It was both lovely and terrifying, and it lingered at the back of his mind for the rest of the day, along with his mother’s voice, asking him: _are you going to be content with your current life forever?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The times in my life that I’ve known a relationship had staying power have been the ones where the mornings after were just as pleasant as the nights before. Just saying, Draco.


	17. December 17

Teddy wanted to go to Diagon Alley for his Christmas shopping, and so Draco found himself back for the second time in four days. Shopping with Teddy was, however, an entirely different experience than shopping with his mother. 

He’d gotten a taste of it on their London excursion, of course, but it was different without Harry there to help wrangle him. Teddy was in a particularly energetic mood, and Draco thought that he might actually collapse at some point while Teddy ran on happily ahead of him. He made a mental note to start exercising again. 

Fortunately, Teddy was not in the market for too many gifts; he was young enough yet that he didn’t really think of adults outside of his immediate family as people that needed presents, so he was only shopping for Harry, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Unfortunately, he seemed to be determined to go into every single shop to make sure that he found the exact right thing for each of them.

They’d been through two clothing shops, a candy store, the Owl Emporium, and a jewelry store already, and although Teddy had pointed at and asked questions about many things, he had yet to make a purchase. It was, Draco found, an interesting mix of adorable and exasperating. Now, Teddy had stopped in front of a toy shop. “Look in the window!” Teddy announced proudly, pointing. “Harry made it. See?”

There was a miniature wooden world in the window. A model train traveled around tiny tracks. There were buildings up and down a little street, with doors and windows swinging open and closed, people peeking out. Tiny, intricately detailed people were hanging baubles on an equally-small Christmas tree in a town square. It reminded Draco of the clockwork models he’d seen in Muggle displays, but everything moved more smoothly, the magic flowing through it giving it life. As Draco took in the details, he realized, with a start, that the street was a model of Diagon Alley itself.

“Harry spent _ages_ on it,” Teddy told Draco proudly. “They asked him to make it special for Christmas. I watched some but I don’t go to his workshop much because he gets busy and then it's boring. He’s got better toys inside, come look!” 

Draco allowed himself to be pulled into the shop and down an aisle; Teddy had obviously been here many times and knew exactly where Harry’s crafts were shelved. They rounded a corner, and Draco came face to face with a tall, thin tree covered in delicately carved animals, slithering and climbing and flitting about within its branches. A snake with carefully articulated scales curled itself around the trunk, flickering its tiny wooden tongue from time to time. Draco noted several dragons similar to the ones that Teddy kept in his room. He carefully stroked the neck of a little owl, which fluffed its miniscule carved feathers under his touch and turned its head to look at him.

“They’re wonderful,” he told Teddy.

“I know.” He seemed to have already lost interest, however, and was off looking at a display case of games.

“See anything good?” Draco asked him, smiling at his serious expression as he considered the various items under the glass.

“Aunt Narcissa likes to play chess sometimes, but I think she likes her pieces,” Teddy said, watching a set of little knights threaten each other. “Do you think she’d want Gobstones?”

Draco thought of his mother coated in the smelly liquid the stones spurted and tried not to laugh. “I don’t know that Gobstones is the game for her.”

“Hmm.” Teddy frowned at the case and then ran off toward another display, immediately forgetting his deliberations as something new caught his eye. Draco smiled in amusement and followed. 

Once again, Teddy made no purchases, but on the way out he pointed one more item out to Draco. “Look, it’s like when we went sledding, remember?” He was looking at a snowglobe that did, indeed, show a handful of tiny people repeatedly climbing up and sledding down a hill of sparkling snow. There was even a group of two bundled adults and a child riding a toboggan together, just as the three of them had.

Draco stood and watched it, and, as Teddy had directed, remembered. The freedom of flying down the slopes. Harry’s carefree laughter carrying on the wind. That almost-kiss. “It’s lovely,” he told Teddy.

“Can we get ice cream?” Teddy asked.

They stopped by Fortesque’s and had ice cream, after which Draco allowed Teddy to drag him through several more shops before finally saying that it was time for him to make some decisions.

“I don’t knowwwww,” Teddy whined, reluctantly holding onto Draco’s hand as they walked down the street. “What are _you_ getting them?”

“I brought gifts with me from New York,” Draco told him. “A scarf for my mother and a book for your Gran. And I’m not telling you what I brought you, so don’t even ask,” he added.

“What did you get Harry?”

“I don’t have a present for Harry.” It hadn’t even occurred to him until Teddy said it, and immediately, panic began to set in. _Fuck._ Of course he should have a gift for Harry. Even if they hadn’t been… doing whatever it was they were doing… he was still spending Christmas morning with them. But what the hell did you get for your childhood-rival-turned-friend-turned…

“Why not?” Teddy asked, interrupting Draco’s spiraling thoughts even as he echoed them. 

“Well, I didn’t know Harry would be a part of our Christmas until I got here,” he explained, shaking off his dismay and vowing to give some real thought to the matter later.

“He’s always here for Christmas!”

“I know that now, but I didn’t before I came.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one told me.”

“Why didn’t Harry tell you?”

“I hadn’t talked to Harry in a very long time before I came to stay with you.”

“Why not? He’s your friend!”

Draco sighed. “He is now, yes, but he wasn’t then.”

“Oh.” Teddy paused, contemplating this. “Well it’s good that he is now. Harry’s awesome.”

Draco laughed. “I suppose he is.”

“You should get him a present.”

“Yes, I should. But for now, why don’t we figure out what _you’re_ going to get him?”

“But I don’t _know_ what to get him!”

Draco looked up at the sky and prayed for patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid some of these shorter chapters might feel a bit like filler, but I think having Draco interact with other people and showing that there is more going on here than just his feelings for Harry is important for his arc, so hopefully it’s not too boring?


	18. December 18

It was nearing six o’clock, and Draco was once again slogging through a pile of work correspondence. He was just realizing despondently that he was going to need to make a stop into the London offices to deal with a few things for a couple of particularly needy clients when the Floo chimed. He heard his mother murmuring in the living room before she raised her voice and called out, “It’s Harry for you, darling.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, ignoring the knowing look she gave him as he moved past here and knelt before the fire. When he saw Harry’s face in the fire, his eyes widened. “Merlin, Harry, you look awful. Is everything okay?”

“Thanks,” Harry answered wryly. “Glad to know I look as terrible as I feel.” He grimaced. “I got called in for emergency babysitting duty again.”

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. She’s sleeping now, thank god, but I don’t think I’m going to make it out for dinner tonight. I’m exhausted, and I’m not sure when Ron’s going to be here to pick her up.”

“Of course,” Draco said, disappointed but trying not to sound it. “I completely understand. We can have dinner another night.”

Harry looked torn. “I don’t suppose you’d want to just come here? I still want to see you, if you’re up for it. We could have something delivered, watch a movie?”

Draco smiled. It made him feel a little fluttery that Harry still wanted his company, even though he was obviously beyond tired. “I’d be glad to, if you’re sure.”

“Definitely.” Harry’s smile was tired but genuine. “Come through the Floo whenever you’re ready; I’ll leave it open. I don’t want the chime to wake her up.”

Once they’d disconnected, Draco quickly finished the letter he’d been working on and packed his briefcase away. He looked down at his outfit; he’d been planning to change before their date, but he supposed his current outfit—a soft pair of jeans he’d owned for years paired with a cozy cable-knit cardigan over a plain tee shirt—would be fine for an evening on the sofa. He didn’t generally wear these jeans out, but as Harry had seen him just as he woke up multiple times now—both intentionally and unintentionally—he didn’t feel as self conscious about wearing his comfortable clothes around him.

When he stepped into Harry’s apartment, the living room was empty. Peering down the hall, he could see a light coming from the spare bedroom, so he made his way quietly over and found Harry leaning on the edge of a crib, looking down at a sleeping baby that he assumed was Rose Granger-Weasley. Harry glanced over at him and smiled, holding a finger to his lips. Draco gestured toward the living room with his head, and Harry nodded, following him and closing the door over behind himself.

“Hey,” he said quietly when they were sufficiently far from the sleeping child. “Thanks for coming over. I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s fine,” Draco reassured him. “You look completely knackered. What happened this time?”

Harry sighed and slumped onto the sofa. Draco joined him, curling up sideways so that he could see Harry’s face. “Two of George’s shop assistants called in sick today, so he needed Ron to help out.”

Draco furrowed his brow. “None of the other Weasleys could do it?”

“Ron’s the only one who isn’t working full time, other than Molly, and she’s with Bill and Fleur right now.” At Draco’s questioning look, he added, “Fleur’s pregnant with their third kid, and she’s too far along to manage the other two without help. Bill’s supposed to be on leave, but there was some emergency, and all the curse breakers got called in.”

“Bad luck.”

“Seriously.”

“So why didn’t George just ask you to come help? You said you used to work with him, didn’t you?”

Harry cracked a tired half smile, leaning his head back to rest against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth, unfortunately. When I was helping George before, I was almost completely behind-the-scenes. It’s stupid, but I still draw a lot of attention, which isn’t great when the store’s already packed with holiday shoppers.”

“I’m sorry.” Now that Draco knew Harry better, he could see how much it bothered him that his fame still got in the way of his life. Giving in to temptation, he reached out and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry sighed. “So you don’t know when Ron will be able to collect her?”

“No. It might actually be Hermione; it depends on who’s done with work first. Probably ‘Mione, honestly, considering what Diagon Alley is like this time of year.” 

Draco thought back on his two recent trips and had to agree; the streets and stores had been absolutely packed. “Alright. We’ll just keep our voices down for now, then. Would you like me to get us some food? I could go pick something up. Or do you have somewhere you like that takes Floo orders?”

Harry smiled, eyes still closed. “The Three Broomsticks had actually started doing Floo order, if you’re okay with pub food. Their fish and chips would be heaven right now.”

“That sounds fine.”

Draco had made the order and was waiting for it to come through when Hermione Flooed in, looking harried. “I’m so sorry, Harry, thank you _so_ much for taking her on such short notice,” she apologized before noticing Draco sitting next to him. “Oh! Hello, Draco. Oh no, did you two have plans?” She looked distressed. “Harry, you should have said!”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco got there first. “It’s entirely alright,” he told her, “Harry’s family comes first. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave you in the lurch.”

Harry gave him a thankful look and Hermione’s expression softened. Still, “We would have figured something else out,” she told him seriously.

“I know you would have,” Harry said, “but it was fine. I wouldn’t have said yes if it was a problem.”

“Yes, you would have.” Her voice was mildly exasperated, but her face was fond. “Well, you’re off duty now. She’s in the spare room?”

“Yeah, she’s asleep, but she’s only been down for about an hour.”

“Alright.”

*****

Their dinner arrived shortly after Hermione departed, baby in tow, and Draco grabbed two plates from the kitchen to divide up their food. Harry had already set up a DVD for them to watch, and Draco examined his television with interest. “I’ve heard about these magi-electric hybrids, but I haven’t seen one. I live in a mixed building, so we just have standard Muggle electronics.”

Harry grinned. “They’re one of the better things we’re importing now that the Ministry has stopped suppressing international trade quite so heavily. Apparently, Japan has had them for decades, but the tariffs were so high they weren’t even bothering to try to sell them here.”

“Bureaucracy at its finest,” Draco commented wryly. 

They started the Christmas movie that Harry had chosen and curled up on the sofa with their food while an opening monologue played over a montage of happy people at airports. “You’re not allowed to judge me for liking this,” Harry told him as he popped a chip into his mouth. “I am aware of its flaws and I don’t care.” Draco just laughed. 

They ate and watched, making comments to each other as it went along. “Oh my god, what the hell, he looks _just_ like Rufus Scrimgeour,” Draco exclaimed in horror as a foul-mouthed older man took up the screen.

“I know, right?” Harry said, grinning. “Just wait until later. It’s horrible.”

The scene changed. “Is it just me, or does that man look a bit like Professor Snape?” Draco asked.

Harry tilted his head. “I mean, maybe if Snape had been twenty years older? I always think the woman who plays his wife looks like Trelawney, though.”

“Really?” Draco squinted. “I don’t see it. Although it’s hard to picture Trelawney without those glasses.” 

“This kid is almost as dramatic as you were when I met you,” Harry observed a bit later with a mischievous smirk.

“I resent that,” Draco said as they watched the child lock himself in his room in a huff. 

“Oh really? Because I’m pretty sure that when we were his age you challenged me to a duel over like… I can’t even remember. But we were eleven, so it had to have been something stupid.”

“Alright fine, perhaps I was a _bit_ dramatic.” 

Once their food was gone, Harry curled into Draco’s side and Draco wrapped an arm around him, enjoying the closeness and warmth. They laughed at some of the plot lines and booed at others. “I hate this scene,” Harry complained as a man declared his love to his best friend’s wife. “Who even does that?”

“People who think they’re the protagonist and everyone else is just a supporting character,” Draco replied, and Harry laughed, curling further into him.

As the movie approached its ending and each plot line began to resolve, Draco watched in horror as the Scrimgeour-look-alike appeared on the screen wearing nothing but a guitar. He looked down at Harry to berate him for not warning him about just how disturbing things were about to get only to see that Harry was fast asleep on his shoulder.

Trying not to move too much, Draco summoned the remote control and switched the television off. Harry looked soft, and young, and Draco could think of nothing he wanted less than to disturb him. He checked the time; it was just after nine, so he didn’t think it would throw Harry’s schedule off at this point if he slept through the night. He contemplated just tucking him in on the sofa, but he thought that Harry would probably wake when he shifted him anyway, so reluctantly, he tried to rouse him enough to get him to his bed.

“Harry,” he said softly, stroking his hair. “Harry, come on, wake up.”

Harry started slightly. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

“Oh, fuck,” Harry said groggily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He yawned. “Sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s fine,” Draco assured him, smiling in a way that he knew was probably embarrassingly fond. “But I don’t think you want to sleep on my shoulder all night.”

Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck for a moment. “Wouldn’t be so bad,” he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, he sat up. “Right. Bed.” He stood and stretched, stumbling slightly. Draco laughed.

“Come on.” He guided Harry to his room and helped him get undressed and into a pair of soft pajama bottoms. 

“Thank you,” Harry sighed as he curled onto his side, eyes already beginning to droop shut again. “Sorry I’m such a shit date.”

“You’re not. This was perfect.” Draco pulled a blanket up over him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight Harry.” But Harry was already asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once the idea of them watching “Love, Actually” came to me, I couldn’t resist. I have such a love/hate relationship with that movie. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little scene of domestic fluffiness!


	19. December 19

Harry knocked on the doorway of the small office that Narcissa had begrudgingly allowed Draco to claim for his work so that he wouldn’t keep taking over the dining room table. “Hey there. Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Draco said with a smile, pushing the sheet of projections in front of him away. He stood and stretched, walking over to Harry. “But it’s probably for the best.” 

Harry laughed. “Glad to be of service.” His face turned sheepish. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday, and say thank you for getting me to bed. I didn’t mean to be such an awful date.”

“You weren’t,” Draco assured him. 

“I passed out on you halfway through a movie.”

“Better than passing out halfway through dinner at a restaurant.”

Harry laughed. “I suppose so. Still, it wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “And what did you have in mind?”

In response, Harry stepped closer and leaned up, kissing him. Draco smiled into it, hands finding their way to Harry’s hips as he responded. He felt Harry’s tongue brush against his lower lip and met it for a moment before pulling back.

“Ah. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t pursue that plan; you might have passed out in a much more awkward position.” 

Harry snorted. “Fair point.” Glancing behind himself, he asked, “Is it okay for me to do this here? We haven’t really talked about…” he gestured vaguely, presumably to indicate the rest of the house and the people therein. 

“It’s fine for now, Teddy’s up in his room and I’m unfortunately quite sure that my mother and aunt know there’s something going on, even if they aren’t sure of the details.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured. Because you stayed over the other night, if nothing else.”

“Not my most subtle move,” Draco agreed. “I do think I’d prefer that Teddy not know, though, if that’s alright. I don’t want him to think—” He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

Harry’s face did something complicated and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Right, that makes sense.” Draco suddenly felt an overwhelming need to apologize, but Harry snapped back to his cheerful self in the next instant, so he bit the words back. “Speaking of Teddy, he wants me to take him ice skating after dinner, do you want to come?”

*****

When dinner was done, Harry, Draco, and Teddy made their way to a pond on the outskirts of town that had been temporarily converted into an ice rink. Spintwitches had set up a booth to rent skates out of, and several benches had been arranged nearby. Sparkling lights (charmed Muggle ones rather than live fairies, Draco was smugly pleased to see) were strung overhead between tall wooden posts that had been spaced along the ice’s edge. 

Teddy had, apparently, learned to skate the year prior and took off across the ice as soon as his boots were laced. Laughing, Harry followed him at a more hesitant pace. He had confessed to Draco that he had only been skating a handful of times and was, therefore, a bit awkward at it. “Mostly I can just go in a circle,” he’d admitted, looking embarrassed.

“Something that the great Harry Potter isn’t good at?” Draco had smirked at him, and Harry had shoved him in the shoulder and told him to go fuck himself, laughing. “But I’d so much rather you did,” he’d murmured when Harry had drawn near again, and Harry had given him a look that said Draco would be paying for that later. Draco looked forward to it.

Draco had skated regularly in his youth, and although he hadn’t been in a few years, he found that it came back to him easily. He drifted around the edges of the rink, watching the other skaters go by. There were a few couples holding hands, a group of teens chasing each other around and laughing uproariously, and several adults chaperoning younger children. One of the couples, a man and a woman who looked to be well into their eighties, if not older, were engaged in a routine full of twirls and spins that Draco would have been impressed by even in people a fraction of their age. He watched them for a few moments before gliding past to catch up with Teddy and Harry.

Teddy had apparently given up his mad solo sprint to try to teach Harry to improve his skating. From what Draco could tell, this mostly consisted of him tugging on Harry’s hand and telling him to go faster while Harry tried not to be pulled off his feet. “You have to move your feet more,” he was saying when Draco arrived beside them.

“Teddy, I love you, but if I ‘move my feet more’ I’m going to fall.”

“Everything going well here?” Draco asked.

“Harry’s _slow_ ,” Teddy told him, voice so exasperated that Draco had to bite back a laugh.

“Harry’s still learning,” Draco responded. “It’s not his fault he’s a terrible skater.”

“Hey!” Draco laughed at Harry’s pout.

“Why don’t we let Harry find his feet and you and I can do a loop and come back to him?” Draco suggested.

Teddy’s face split into a mischievous grin. “Bet you can’t keep up!” He was off like a shot, and Draco swore as he was quickly left behind. As he picked up speed to catch up with his cousin, he could hear Harry laughing behind him.

By the time Teddy and Draco had circled the pond twice, Harry seemed to have found his stride and was able to manage a much more reasonable pace. “What do you think, Teds?” he asked them as they pulled up beside him.

“Not _so_ bad,” Teddy said, “but Cousin Draco is still better. I’m gonna make _him_ take me skating the rest of the winter.”

Draco smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes at him, before telling Teddy, “As much as I’d love to save you from Harry’s terrible skating, sadly, I’ll only be here for another week. If you can talk your gran into bringing you to see me in New York sometime, though, I could take you skating there—there are several places around the city where we could go.”

Teddy wrinkled his nose. “New York sounds stupid.”

“How does New York sound stupid?” Draco asked in amusement.

“It just _does._ ” He was pouting now. “You should just stay here.” Draco’s amusement melted away. _Oh._ Something lurched in his stomach. For some reason, it had never occurred to him that Teddy would care that he was leaving. 

“Teddy,” Harry said softly, taking the boy’s hand, “Draco can’t stay with us, he has a very important job back in New York.”

“That’s _stupid_ ,” Teddy repeated petulantly. Harry sighed and looked about to say something else when a girl who looked about Teddy’s age yelled his name from the edge of the pond.

“Come race me!” the girl yelled, and Teddy’s mood immediately shifted back to exuberant. 

“There’s no way you can beat me!” he called as he left Harry and Draco behind. 

“Schoolmate?” Draco asked. 

Harry nodded. “His school’s mostly Muggle but there are a couple other magical kids there. Jane’s dad runs Scrivenshaft’s.”

The pair watched, skating slowly side by side as the two children raced around the pond, laughing and yelling. Draco tried to enjoy it, but he kept thinking about Teddy’s reaction to his imminent departure. His mood must have been visible as his gaze tracked his cousin, because it wasn’t long before Harry broke the silence.

“He’ll be okay,” he said. “He just…” He trailed off, as though trying to find the words. “He doesn’t have that much family,” he finally said. “And he really likes you. So he got attached quickly. But... he’ll adjust. He’ll be fine.” He paused, and then repeated it, quietly, as though to himself. “We’ll be fine.”

Draco tried to believe him. 

*****

The heavy mood eventually lifted, and Harry and Draco’s conversation fell into a now-familiar pattern of teasing and flirting. Draco found it increasingly difficult not to just snog Harry senseless right there on the ice, much to his own chagrin. Their earlier kiss had left him wishing for more time and privacy, and spending hours being taunted by Harry’s unsubtle looks and knowing smirks was not helping matters.

Eventually, Teddy and his friend tired themselves out, and Harry convinced Teddy that it was time to go home. He whinged a bit at first, claiming that he was fine, but by the time Draco had returned their rental skates and come back to the bench where he’d left them, he was slumped against Harry’s side, fast asleep. 

Harry smiled wryly up at Draco. “Side-along’s probably going to startle the hell out of him, but I don’t particularly fancy walking half a mile carrying four stone of dead weight.”

“Well there’s no way _I’m_ doing it, so side-along will have to do.”

Teddy did rouse briefly when they landed in front of the house, but it was just as well, since he still needed to get ready for bed. Draco observed fondly as Harry pushed him through his routine, getting him to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas before climbing into bed. “You good there?” Harry asked him as he pulled the covers up to his chin.

“Mmhmm,” came the sleepy reply.

“Okay. Love you, Teddy. Goodnight.” Harry leaned over and kissed his brow, reminding Draco of how he’d sent Harry off to sleep the night before. It was an almost unbearably sweet scene, and Draco wanted to kiss Harry breathless. _It really shouldn’t be so attractive that he’s good with children,_ he thought despondently.

“Love you,” Teddy echoed, snuggling down in under his covers, and Harry backed out through the door, closing it softly behind him.

“Alright,” he said quietly to Draco. “I guess I should get going.” He looked regretful.

Draco glanced across the hall to where his own door stood open before raising a suggestive eyebrow at Harry. “Or you could stay for a bit.” 

It was immensely satisfying to witness the effect he could have with just one short sentence. Harry’s eyes darkened almost immediately, and he licked his lips. “You know your mum and aunt are right downstairs, yeah?” His expression told Draco that he very much did not want to be reminding Draco of that fact, but he seemed unable to help himself.

Draco let his gaze trail obviously down Harry’s body and back up again before giving him a challenging smirk. “You’ll just have to stay quiet, then, won’t you?”

Apparently reassured, Harry shot him a devious grin. “That’s what silencing charms are for.”

Draco shoved him through the door.

He barely gave Harry time to murmur the charm and drop his wand before he was pushing him against a wall and kissing him like he was drowning and Harry was air. Harry groaned into his mouth and sank his fingers into his hair, kissing him hard before pulling back slightly. “Being around you all night and not being able to do this was fucking torture,” he said accusitorily.

“Like you were making it easy?” Draco retorted before kissing him again. “Get your clothes off.”

They shed their layers quickly and inelegantly, and soon Draco found himself with his chest and forearms pressed against the wall and Harry’s fingers, slick with conjured lube, pushing inside of him. 

It was quick and dirty and, Draco thought as he bit down on his own arm to stifle a scream, _really_ fucking hot. Harry took him roughly, fucking into him mercilessly while his nails dug into his hips, and it was such a contrast from the mellow, friendly Harry that people saw most of the time that it made Draco’s head spin. He groaned as he felt Harry empty himself inside of him and quickly pull out and had only a moment to bemoan the loss before Harry spun him around and sunk to his knees. 

Afterward, they sat side by side on the floor, naked and breathing heavily. “I really, really do not want to walk downstairs past Narcissa and Andromeda,” Harry admitted.

Draco grimaced at the thought. “They might have gone to bed?” he said, knowing that they wouldn’t have.

Harry, apparently, agreed. “...I could just Apparate directly from here?”

Draco tilted his head sideways to look at him. “Harry Potter, where _is_ your Gryffindor spirit?” 

“Even Gryffindors know better than to try to have a conversation with the parent of someone they fucked, like, ten minutes before,” Harry said wryly.

Draco laughed. “I suppose that’s valid. Fine, you can Apparate from here, but if you do, I’m not going downstairs until morning. I don’t want to deal with them any more than you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry felt bad that you didn’t get any smut yesterday, so he asked me to throw some in to today’s chapter for you. Draco did not mind in the slightest.


	20. December 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Mx_Maneater. They know why.

Draco sat at a borrowed computer, scrolling through reams of market data and cursing the concept of year-end charitable giving. He was all for philanthropy—he gave to several causes himself—but the last-minute rush of the wealthy to shuffle their finances and make strategic donations to avoid paying taxes under the guise of good will made him want to strangle people. 

The London offices of Kashburn & Costleigh were located in the Muggle financial district due to their heavy use of Muggle technology and the fact that they traded in both magical and Muggle assets. It was one of the reasons that they’d grown so rapidly in recent years: the complete separation of magical and Muggle financial systems had always been a massive headache for people living with feet in both worlds, and K&C provided wix with the ability to manage their wealth across systems without getting on the bad side of either government. 

K&C had been founded in New York after the young heiress to the rather massive Kashburn fortune had started exhibiting signs of magic and her parents had been abruptly dropped into a world that they’d never imagined. As wealthy people are wont to do, they had immediately started thinking about how this shift in reality would affect their finances. The father, Kent Kashburn, had soon connected with the equally-wealthy pureblood wizard Calpurnius Costleigh—who had developed an interest in Muggle investments during the tech boom—and shortly thereafter, K&C was born.

Despite having been in operation for less than twenty years, the firm had grown exponentially. The rapid growth had meant hiring and training new staff on a massive scale. Draco had found himself recruited based solely on a chance encounter with an older witch he’d met in passing at his tailor’s who had been impressed with his polished demeanor. “Your posture inspires confidence,” the woman had told him, and the next thing he knew, he was being pushed through a rapid training course and out into the world.

K&C now had offices on six continents, and London was only one of several European locations. Although Draco was annoyed that he’d had to make a trip in, he’d felt a sense of relief wash over him as he’d entered the tall glass building and taken the elevator up to the thirteenth floor. This was his comfort zone: sleekly designed offices and top-of-the-line technology paired with soaring magical memos and finely pressed parchment. The receptionist had quickly set him up in a guest office, and now here he was, quite a few hours later, realizing that although he generally loved his job, attempting to catch up on three weeks of work in one afternoon might not have been his best plan.

With a sigh, Draco admitted to himself that he was going to need a cup of coffee or three if he wanted to get anything more done today. He knew that there was a kitchen somewhere in the office, but decided that a bit of a stretch would do him some good, so he went down to the Costa on the corner. The cold air helped snap him out of his screen-induced stupor, and by the time he’d boarded the elevator with his cappuccino (which he was trying not to acknowledge he had chosen because he was thinking of Harry), he was feeling significantly more himself.

“Well, if it isn’t Draco Malfoy!” The declaration, spoken fondly in a strong American accent, had Draco grinning even before he turned to face the person it had come from.

“Chris! How are you?”

“As well as you’d expect, given the date. I’m glad to run into you, though; I’d hoped we could talk while you were in. Do you have a moment?”

“For you, always,” Draco responded before following her to her large corner office.

Chris Costleigh was the oldest of Calpurnius’ children and had been involved in K&C since its inception. She had been the one to oversee the training of Draco and the cohort who had joined at the same time as him back in 1999, and she had moved to the UK to run the London office when it opened a few years later. She was a tall, straight-backed, no-nonsense woman who would have reminded Draco of a younger Minerva McGonagall had McGonagall decided to swap her robes for an impeccably tailored skirt suit and sensible heels. She’d been a wonderful mentor to Draco over the years, and he was pleased to see her.

“Please, sit.” She settled behind her desk and indicated two stylish leather chairs across from her. Draco eased himself into one, coffee still in hand, and crossed one leg over the other. “Calpurnius told me you would be in the country. I suspect that he knew you'd show up here sooner or later. How is your trip going?”

“Better than I’d expected,” Draco admitted truthfully, “although I wish my family lived someplace a little less remote. Are you familiar with Hogsmeade, in Scotland?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Is that the all-magic town near the school?”

“Village, actually, but yes, that’s the one. It’s lovely, but it’s too steeped in old magic for there to be an internet connection, even if the people who lived there had wanted one. I’ve been in withdrawal.”

Chris laughed. “I can imagine. But your mother is well?”

“Very. She’s moved into a house with her sister and grand-nephew and seems utterly delighted by their company. Although apparently the house isn’t quite full enough for her; she keeps trying to convince me to move back, as well.” He gave her a wry smile.

“That’s actually what I was hoping to talk to you about.” Chris leaned back in her chair, giving him a calculating look. “You know that the firm is still growing rapidly, yes?”

“Yes, I’ve noticed; we seem to have new junior staff in every day at the main office.”

“Indeed. Well, as we expand, we’re hoping to reallocate some of our more senior staff; the majority are still in the New York office, which leaves the rest of our locations fairly bottom-heavy. I was hoping that, since you grew up here and are familiar with the workings of the UK magical community, you might consider a transfer.”

“Oh,” Draco said, surprised. His mother had, of course, tried to talk him into transferring offices, but he hadn’t really thought of it as an option. “What would it entail? All of my clients are in the US; I can’t imagine they’d be pleased if I moved abroad.”

“Yes, we would need to transfer your clients to someone else, but we’d build in some time to ensure a smooth transition before you took on your new duties here.”

“And what would those be? Would the job be the same, other than location?”

“Somewhat, but not entirely. You’d still have some clients, but fewer and with more substantial investments. We’d also have you mentoring new recruits and potentially liaising with Gringotts. The goblins did not take kindly to our arrival, and I thought your... background... might help smooth the way a bit.”

Draco puffed out a laugh. “Indeed. My father may have been hated by quite a lot of people, but the goblins were never among them. Having obscene amounts of centuries-old wealth probably worked in his favor.” He turned his paper coffee cup in his hands, thinking. He hadn’t honestly ever considered repatriating to be an option, but he knew that a large portion of that had been rooted in the fears he’d been harboring as to the reception he would receive when he returned. Now that those fears had proven to be unfounded— “I’ll have to give it some thought,” he told Chris decisively. “I’m very flattered at the offer, but it’s too big of a decision to make on a whim.”

“Of course,” Chris said, unperturbed, “I expected no less. If you decide you’re interested, I’d prefer to start you sooner rather than later, though, so I’d appreciate it if you could give me an answer before the end of the year.”

“Of course,” Draco echoed. 

Their business apparently concluded for now, the pair spent a few minutes making inconsequential smalltalk before Draco made his way back to his borrowed office. He looked around the space with new eyes as he settled back in front of the computer. Would he want to work here full time? The space was just as nice as the New York office, and he liked the idea of working with Chris again. And London wasn’t all that different from New York, when it came down to it—it was older, and cleaner, but the energy of it was much the same. He’d probably be as comfortable living and working here as he was there.

And if he were living here, he would be close to his family, and his friends, and— He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_...are you going to be content with your current life forever? Or are you, some day, going to want something more?_

He had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I worked in finance in a past life (think over a decade ago) and it was not investment banking, so I’m being as vague as possible because I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do, however, have _a lot_ of feelings about philanthropy and taxes, at least within the US, most of which come down to “these deductions are an important incentive to get rich people to do good things with their money but why can’t they just pay fucking taxes” and “the government should be doing a large chunk of what charities are doing (providing healthcare, feeding and housing the homeless, supporting the arts, providing disaster relief, fixing inequitable education systems, etc.) anyway.” Like, they won’t, because this country is pretty shit and they’d rather support tax evasion and spend the money they do have on continuing to build the world’s largest arsenal, but they SHOULD. (...uh… happy holidays?)


	21. December 21

Despite his assurances to Hermione at the time, Harry’s last-minute babysitting gig had indeed been a problem, in that it had lost him a full day of pre-Christmas working time. He was behind on several orders that he’d promised he’d have done in time for Christmas, he’d admitted to Draco on a brief Floo call the night before. He was going to have to spend the entire day (and most likely a not-insignificant part of the night) in his workshop, eliminating any chance they’d had to go on a final date before Draco left. They were due to spend tomorrow evening making Christmas biscuits with Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy, and then the next day would be dedicated to party preparations. Then came the party, and then Christmas, and then… then, Draco would be gone.

He spent a few hours in the K&C office again in the morning but found his concentration suffering and gave up by lunchtime. Rather than heading back to Hogsmeade, he decided, on a whim, to take the bus to Charing Cross Road and make a final visit to Diagon Alley in hopes of finding a gift for Harry.

He decided to have some lunch first to give himself time to brainstorm; it had been several days since his trip with Teddy, and he was no closer to thinking of anything. Harry had plenty of money, so there was no point in just buying him something expensive to make up for a lack of originality. And besides, he wanted to find a gift that _meant_ something, something that said ‘you’re important to me.’ He found a small cafe to have a bite at and bought a sandwich, sitting down at a little table by the window to think.

Despite his plans, however, Draco could not keep his mind on gift-giving. It kept drifting back to Chris and the job offer she’d made him—the chance to not only advance in his career, but also to stay in the UK.

He’d spent quite a bit of time during his holiday trying not to think about the things he was going to miss when he went back to New York. His family and the cozy home they’d made together, so different from the Manor with its strict rules and cold elegance. Pansy, Blaise, and Greg, whom he’d slid back into an easy friendship with since his return, seeing them when he could between family obligations, work, and dates with Harry. And, of course, Harry himself.

Draco had meant it when he’d said he was content with his life in New York—his flat, his job, his routines. But being here, now, it was harder not to see the large hole that he’d been ignoring: the one that was shaped like people who cared about him, and whom he cared about in return. He hadn’t missed it here when he’d been in New York; when he’d left, he’d been fleeing, and he hadn’t believed that anything would be different when he returned. But it was. His family was different. His friends were different. The _world_ was different. And the things that he’d preferred about the magical community in New York—the smoother integration with Muggle culture and technology, for one—were beginning to take root in the UK, as well. 

Still, the idea of uprooting his life so suddenly was nerve-racking. Draco was not a risk taker; he was a man of routine, of certainty. He’d spent so many years building what he now had. He’d created a space for himself, and he’d done it on his own. He’d learned how to function in a world that wasn’t the one he’d grown up in; he’d worked hard, climbing up the ranks at his job, and he’d saved his money so that he could rent his nice flat and buy his nice suits and forge a life that didn’t rely on inherited wealth or family connections. He didn’t know if he was ready to give that up.

His mother’s words—her plea that he at least think about the future—followed him constantly. Was ‘content’ enough for him? Would it always be enough? But he wasn’t sure he was ready to think about ‘always’ just yet. Especially when, despite his thoughts on family and friends and community, he was afraid that his reasoning might be clouded by his feelings for Harry. 

As much as he would have liked to, Draco couldn’t deny that they were, in fact, feelings. Feelings beyond lust and beyond the fondness of friendship. He didn’t think it was love, at least not in the sense that people always talked about—fireworks and fairytales and forever. It felt too soon for that, too new. But it was definitely _something._ It was the warm feeling in his chest when he watched Harry with Teddy. It was the smile that he couldn’t seem to hold back every time he saw Harry’s face. It was the sweetness of falling asleep together and the comfort of a lazy morning after. It was the not wanting to part ways no matter how many hours they’d spent together. It was the sharp pain in his gut when he thought about saying goodbye. It was...

It was too much to think about right now. He wasn’t even sure if Harry would want to keep seeing him if he stayed, or if he had only decided to give it a go because he knew there was no chance of a long-term commitment. He _thought_ that Harry had feelings for him as well—the things he said sometimes and the looks Draco occasionally caught on his face indicated that he did—but it was a lot to gamble on. What if he stayed, and Harry ended things, and it really _was_ as awkward as he’d feared it would be, back when he was trying to keep things uncomplicated? 

Finishing his sandwich, Draco decided to file all of those thoughts away and focus on finding a gift. Chris had given him until the new year to make a decision. He had time.

He wandered up and down the street, peering in windows and hoping that something would catch his eye, but nothing did. His normal go-tos for gifts—books, clothing, nice wine or liquor—all felt impersonal, inadequate. He considered a plant of some sort, something that held a particular meaning, but he hadn’t seen any houseplants in Harry’s flat and didn’t know if he would want the responsibility. He thought about something experiential, maybe something Harry could take Teddy to do or see, but he felt like it would just highlight the fact that he was leaving, that he wouldn’t be there to enjoy whatever it was with them.

Briefly, he considered a portkey to New York.

He was beginning to give up hope of finding anything when his attention was caught by Harry’s miniature town in the window of the toy shop he’d visited with Teddy. He stopped to watch the tiny train traveling along its path, puffing out small clouds of steam as it went. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he found himself going inside and making his way back to the tree holding all of Harry’s little carved animals. 

He watched a pair of dragons chase each other from branch to branch, one occasionally breathing little bursts of heatless fire at the other. He ran a finger down the back of a hippogriff, wryly remembering his disastrous encounter in third year, and the carved animal preened before curling up in a ball and going to sleep. He tickled the little owl again, delighting in its ruffling feathers and accusatory glare. On a whim, he lifted it from the branch—he liked the idea of bringing one of Harry’s carvings home with him. It was embarrassingly sentimental, but no one else had to know.

He was making his way toward the register when he noticed the shelf full of snow globes, their miniscule inhabitants enacting cozy winter scenes under a constant fall of drifting snow. Walking over, he found the one that Teddy had pointed out to him—the hill of sledders with its little family on the toboggan that could almost have been them. He watched them climb back up the slope, dragging their sled behind them, before gliding gracefully back down. He thought about laughter and exhilaration and the feel of his own legs bracketing Harry’s, both of them holding tightly to Teddy. He thought about that moment when everything had started to change, when his feelings had become as inevitable as their final tumble down the hill.

He joined the long queue at the register. While he waited, he idly watched the other patrons of the store hurrying to finish their own Christmas shopping, wondering who they were buying their gifts for and what the recipients would feel when they opened them. When he finally made it to the front, he paid for two items: a little wooden owl and a trio of tiny sledders in a snow globe. He asked the shop attendant to wrap the second item but not the first, and he headed home. Once he’d dropped off his packages, he thought, perhaps he would stop by Harry’s workshop to bring him a cappuccino. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to therunningfoxes for the idea of Draco buying himself the little owl! I was already planning to have him go back for the snowglobe, and I loved the thought of him picking up a little remembrance for himself while he was there.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and thinking through what all of Draco’s thought processes would be at this point in time. Because we’re living on story time (and fluffy story time, at that), I think it sometimes feels like things like falling in love or deciding to uproot your life are quick and simple and uncomplicated. In reality, a choice like Draco is facing is huge, and he and Harry—as the people they are now—have only known each other for three weeks. From an outside perspective, the choice seems straightforward, but for Draco I think it really wouldn’t be.


	22. December 22

The kitchen was an absolute disaster, and Draco was having more fun than he’d probably ever had while making food. Narcissa had, predictably, set her heart on a far wider variety of biscuits than any reasonable person would consider necessary, but for once, Draco wasn’t complaining. She and Andromeda had made sugar and gingerbread biscuit doughs earlier in the day, so he was working with Harry to roll them out and cut them into shapes. Andromeda was making a shortbread base for lemon bars, and Narcissa was helping Teddy to roll the Russian tea cakes she’d just removed from the oven in icing sugar. She was streaked in the fine white powder up to her elbows, down the apron she was wearing, and across her face; Draco didn’t think he had ever seen her look so disheveled in her life. Teddy, of course, was even worse.

“Mother, the jam star biscuits use the sugar dough, yes?” Draco asked as he finished rolling the dough into a perfectly even sheet.

“Yes—sugar for the jam stars, snowflakes, and stained glass; gingerbread for the men, trees, bells, and wreaths.”

“Oh, trade you, then,” Harry said from where he stood in front of the gingerbread dough. “I promised I’d do the snowflakes.” 

Draco traded places with him at the island, planning out how to cut as many biscuits from the dough as he could with minimal waste. Harry, meanwhile, drew his wand and began tracing intricate snowflake shapes in the sugar dough.

They had Christmas music playing in the background again, and every so often Harry or Andromeda would begin singing along, making Teddy groan and cover his ears, getting more sugar in his hair as he did so. Harry, of course, only took this as encouragement to sing even louder, much to Draco’s entertainment.

Trays of biscuits went in and out of the oven, icing was mixed, lemon curd was whisked, and cooling charms were cast. Harry’s snowflakes were carefully floated to a tray where he could begin piping delicate white patterns onto them, while Draco moved to the table with Teddy to decorate the gingerbread, Narcissa began sandwiching raspberry jam into the stars, and Andromeda moved on to preparing peppermint meringues.

Teddy’s decorating style was every bit as chaotic and energetic as he was. He painted Christmas trees with blue and red stripes, put polka dots on bells, and dunked wreaths in the edible glitter that Draco had desperately tried to talk his mother out of. Draco, meanwhile, was entertaining himself immensely by decorating the gingerbread people to look like various party guests. He was particularly pleased with his messy haired, bespectacled Harry-biscuit. 

He was just putting the finishing touches on Pansy’s sleek black bob when Harry looked over at him and laughed. “You’ve got a bit of blue, uh—” He gestured at Draco’s hair, and Draco’s hand flew up instinctively, making Harry snort. “Yeah, that definitely made it worse.”

“Oh for—” Draco cut himself off before he swore (he’d gotten more than one lecture from his mother about the language he used in front of Teddy) and let out an exasperated sigh. “I should go deal with that.”

“Do you want me to just—” Harry raised his wand and Draco held up a panicked hand to stop him.

“No offense, but I don’t trust a single person in this room to point a wand at my head. I’ll be back in a moment.” From behind him, he could hear Andromeda laugh and his mother let out an offended huff. Ignoring them, he wiped his hands on the front of his borrowed apron, removed it, and headed up to the loo.

He was siphoning the last streaks of blue and black icing from his hair in the mirror when Harry appeared over his shoulder. “You missed a spot,” he said with a grin.

“I did not! Where?” Draco leaned closer to the mirror and then turned to Harry. “I didn’t, did I?”

Harry ran a thumb across Draco’s bottom lip and then leaned in to kiss him. “No,” he said with a smirk as he pulled back.

“You’re such a prick,” Draco told him with a glare. Still, he pulled Harry closer by two fingers in his collar and kissed him back, biting his lip just hard enough to make him gasp before slipping his tongue into his mouth. He tasted sugar-sweet, and Draco laughed. “Been sampling the products, have we?”

“Have to make sure they’re good enough to share with people,” Harry said seriously, running his hands down Draco’s back. 

“And?”

“Might have to try a few more, just to be sure.”

“I suppose it’s important to have strict quality control measures in place.”

“Yes, exactly! See, you get me.” Harry grinned and slid his thumbs under the waistband of Draco’s trousers. “Come over when this is all done?”

Draco leaned in and kissed Harry one more time. “Absolutely.” Stepping back, he slipped past him and down the stairs, where he pulled his apron back over his head and resumed his decorating, trying not to laugh at the fact that Teddy’s hands, shirt, and grinning face were now almost completely covered in a fine layer of glitter. He _had_ warned them.

Harry headed home just before nine, and Draco began helping his mother put the kitchen back in order while Andromeda disappeared upstairs with Teddy to get him through a bath before bed. After about ten minutes, however, Narcissa set down her wand and crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you have somewhere you’re meant to be?” 

“What?” Draco asked, wide eyed.

“Draco, darling, you’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

Draco could feel a blush rising. “I don’t… I… I mean we…”

Narcissa gave him a pointed look. “Would you prefer to help me write up the timing for tomorrow’s food preparation?”

Draco hastily removed his apron once more and headed upstairs to clean up and change.

*****

“That was fast,” Harry greeted him as he stepped into the living room.

“Yes, well, Mother threatened me with canapes if I didn’t leave.”

“She is a strange woman and I like her very much,” Harry opined as he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist. “I take it she knew where you were going, then?”

Draping his arms over Harry’s shoulders, Draco grimaced. “Sadly, she has always managed to know far more about my life than I would like her to. But at least it means I didn’t have to sneak out.”

Harry laughed. “The idea of you sneaking out of your mother’s house for a shag at our age is actually pretty hilarious.”

“Oh, is that what you think we’re doing?” Draco asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“I mean, I do have a chess set around here somewhere, if you’d prefer,” Harry countered, calling his bluff.

“Shut up, Potter.” 

Draco kissed him and nudged him toward the bedroom.

They took their time, kissing and touching as they removed each other’s clothing with care. Draco ran his fingers and lips over each part of Harry he uncovered, memorizing the way his skin felt over lean muscle and protruding bone, tracing freckles and scars with his tongue. Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, tugging lightly and then running his thumbs over his temples, behind his ears, down his neck. When they were both naked, Draco pushed at Harry until he reclined on the mattress and climbed up on top of him, straddling his thighs.

Harry pulled him down for another kiss, trailing his hands down his back to cup his arse briefly before running them down his thighs. Draco hummed in approval, sliding his own hands into Harry’s tangle of curls. They kissed for long minutes, deeply, leisurely, simply enjoying the dance of lips and tongues. Eventually, though, Harry’s hands drifted back towards Draco’s arse, one finger slipping into his crease before he made a surprised noise as he hit slicked skin.

“Ah, yes, I thought I’d save us some time,” Draco said with a smirk. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Harry breathed. “Here, c’mere.”

Harry eased Draco off his lap and onto his side before curling up behind him, his thighs pressed against Draco’s, one arm looped under his neck. His hard cock slipped between Draco’s cheeks and he gave a few slow thrusts, brushing over Draco’s sensitive hole and making him whimper, before using his other hand to line himself up.

“Move this leg up a bit,” he directed, and Draco did, opening himself so that Harry could push inside. It was easier than the first few times—Draco’s body more used to the intrusion now—but still intense. He closed his eyes and let himself feel every millimeter of Harry’s slow slide into him, every nerve ending sparking as he was stretched wide. 

Once he was fully seated, Harry wrapped his free arm around Draco’s torso, his hand resting over his heart and his forehead pressed against the back of his neck. Draco held onto his arm with one of his own, stretching the other back to grasp at the back of Harry’s head. “Come on,” he whispered, and Harry began to move.

He set a slow, rolling pace, his thrusts necessarily shallow in this position, the head of his cock pushing against Draco’s prostate in a steady rhythm. Draco closed his eyes, cataloguing every place where Harry’s body met his, letting the heat in his core coil lazily. He rolled back against Harry, undulating with him, and Harry pressed kisses to the back of his neck and shoulder. 

“God, you feel—” Harry murmured, ending the sentence with another kiss to Draco’s nape. 

“Yes,” Draco replied nonsensically. He turned his head to reach for Harry’s mouth, but couldn’t quite find the angle. He made a dissatisfied little sound, and Harry, apparently realizing what he wanted, kissed his shoulder once more before pulling out and rearranging Draco on his back, settling between his legs.

“Like this?”

Draco responded by wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and leaning up to kiss him. Harry pushed back inside of him, and Draco hummed his appreciation into Harry’s mouth. This felt— he didn’t know. This _felt._ They continued to rock slowly, every movement intentional and heavy with something that Draco wasn’t sure he could bear. 

Harry broke the kiss and pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, green eyes intense with things Draco couldn’t name but could feel just the same, and as his orgasm began to build in earnest, he had the terrible realization that he might actually be about to cry. Rather than letting that happen, he decided to take control, using the grip of his knees on Harry’s hips to flip them over until he sat astride him. Harry let out a surprised yelp followed by a groan as Draco began to ride him in earnest.

From there, it turned urgent and sloppy, Draco grabbing his cock with one hand while he braced himself next to Harry’s head with the other, kissing him with what would have been an embarrassing lack of finesse if he’d had enough sensibility left for embarrassment. Harry came suddenly, with a startled jerk of his hips and a moan muffled by Draco’s lips. Draco kept moving, pulling himself harder until he finally spilled over Harry’s sweat-glistening stomach. 

He laughed, momentary melancholy driven away by that final desperate rush and the subsequent burst of endorphins, and buried his face in Harry’s neck for a moment before lifting himself off and rolling onto his side, settling his cheek against Harry’s chest. One of Harry’s hands rose to stroke his hair absently. Draco turned slightly to press a kiss to his clavicle before stretching and grimacing at the feeling of liquid seeping from him. “Shower?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Harry replied, “Just give me like… three minutes to get my legs working?”

Draco sat up and smirked down at him. “That good, huh?”

“Oh fuck off, you know it was.” Harry grinned and stretched, and Draco watched his muscles shift, biting his lip. Merlin, he was gorgeous. When Harry made an amused little sound, Draco snapped out of his daze to glare at him. Harry winked.

“Shut up,” Draco said, making Harry laugh, and he climbed out of bed. He was headed toward the loo when he remembered. “Oh! I brought you shampoo.”

“You did not!” Harry sat up and gave him an exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“I told you I was going to,” Draco said dismissively before wandering, naked, back into the living room to retrieve the bottle. 

He’d just decided that the water temperature was acceptable and stepped into the shower when Harry joined him, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “So what’s so special about this shampoo?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I could try to explain, but you wouldn’t understand a word I was saying,” Draco told him loftily. 

Harry gave his bum a light smack. “Rude.” 

Draco grinned. “Just trust me. Now, get your hair wet.” He guided Harry under the spray, watching as the water soaked his curls, pulling them straighter until his hair hung almost to his shoulders in the back. “Okay, now come here.” Harry turned obediently so that his back was to Draco, and Draco popped the shampoo open, squeezing a generous dollop into his palm before beginning to carefully massage it into Harry’s hair and scalp.

Harry hummed as the soft scent of lavender wafted through the glass cubicle. “That feels nice. Smells nice, too.”

“Good.” When Draco had thoroughly worked the shampoo through Harry’s locks, he turned him again and made him rinse it out before moving on to his own. 

Once they were clean and dried off, Harry offered to lend Draco some pajamas. It wasn’t terribly late yet, so rather than going straight to bed, they opened a bottle of wine and curled up on the sofa, putting on another Christmas movie—this time, a rendition of _A Christmas Carol_ that was inexplicably told by a combination of puppets and humans. Draco expected it to be awful but found himself immediately engrossed, and by the time the spirit of Christmas past departed, he was blinking back tears. He tried to wipe his eyes surreptitiously, but Harry noticed and looked up at him.

“If you make fun of me I will murder you in your sleep,” Draco told him, voice less level that he would have liked.

“I will mock you for many, many things, Draco, but I promise that having feelings will never be one of them.” Harry smiled, leaning up and kissing him softly. “Besides,” he said matter-of-factly as he turned back to the screen, “that song is _really_ fucking sad.”

When their wine was gone and the movie ended, they went to brush their teeth, Draco grumbling about being emotionally compromised by a stuffed frog. When Harry stepped in front of the mirror, his eyes widened. “What the—”

His hair, now dry, was still a mess of wild curls, but they were smoother, softer, shinier. The chaos looked intentional rather than like he’d been attacked by a bird of prey and not bothered to do anything about it afterward. Harry ran his fingers through it, looking awestruck. “What that actual fuck?”

Draco smirked. “Told you. Really, has no one ever taught you about personal care products?”

Harry glanced at him in the mirror. “Honestly? No. The Dursleys would punish me for using anything other than the cheap bar soap. I was proud of myself for buying proper shampoo at all when I left Hogwarts.”

Draco felt his chest clench and tried to push it down, knowing that Harry wouldn’t appreciate his pity. But then— “Wait, are you saying you used _bar soap_ on your hair all through Hogwarts?” he asked as the full meaning of what Harry had just said sunk in. Harry shrugged, and Draco shook his head. “That explains so much,” he muttered. Harry elbowed him in retaliation, and the somber mood that had threatened to descend was dispelled before it could properly take hold. They teased and poked at each other as they brushed their teeth, and, eventually, made their way back to Harry’s bed, where Draco spooned up behind Harry and quickly fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When Love is Gone” should never have been cut from _A Muppet Christmas Carol_ , and I will fight you on that. Also, I’m now craving gingerbread cookies. Dammit.
> 
> On another note, Y’ALL, I WROTE THE FINAL CHAPTER LAST NIGHT! This story officially has an ending! _::showers everyone in confetti::_


	23. December 23

Draco didn’t wake up disoriented this time. Harry’s body was warm and soft in sleep, and he smelled like his soap and his new shampoo and himself, anchoring Draco very much in the here and now. It was chilly in the room, which was likely why he’d woken up curled against Harry’s chest, legs intertwined with his, blankets pulled up tight around them. He let himself savor the closeness for a few minutes, breathing him in, before beginning to disentangle himself, no longer able to ignore his pressing need to use the toilet. As he tried to roll away, however, Harry’s arms tightened around him and he made a discontented noise.

Draco laughed. “I’ll be right back!”

“No, stay,” Harry demanded sleepily, holding him even closer.

“Harry,” Draco sighed in fond exasperation. “I’m just going to the loo; I’ll be right back. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

“I’ll miss you,” Harry insisted with a pout, his eyes still closed, but he loosened his grip and allowed Draco to slip free. 

Draco looked down at him, curled under the covers, and thought that this was the last time he’d see him like this. _I’ll miss you, too_ , he thought, and then shook his head at his own sappiness.

He returned to the warm bed as quickly as possible, shivering from the cold of the floors on his bare feet, and Harry immediately curled into him despite seeming to have fallen back asleep. Draco allowed the comforting warmth of him to pull him back under.

When he woke the second time, the bed was empty, but the room was warmer. He sat up and stretched, yawning, before begrudgingly getting up, stealing an ugly but cozy bathrobe from Harry’s wardrobe, and padding out into the hall. The smells of coffee and something cinnamony wafted from the kitchen, and he followed them, smiling as he caught sight of Harry—still in his pajamas but now with an added hoodie—at the stovetop, dropping something into a skillet. “Look at you being all domestic,” he teased.

Harry looked back at him over his shoulder and grinned. “Says the man wearing my bathrobe.”

Draco hummed noncommittally and made his way over to Harry, leaning on the counter next to him. “That’s not domestic, it’s practical. Also, this robe is truly hideous.” 

“Excuse you, that was a gift,” Harry said, trying to keep a straight face as he looked over at the ratty tartan horror.

“From _whom?_ ”

“Ginny.”

Draco recoiled. “I’m wearing something that your _ex_ bought you?!”

Harry cackled as he flipped the contents of the pan. “Long after we broke up, I promise. It was, uh—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “—well, a commentary on my perpetual singleness, actually. She told me that if no one was going to be here in the mornings I might as well be comfortable.” He shrugged one shoulder. “She’s terrible, but she wasn’t wrong; it’s comfortable as hell.”

Draco gave a disapproving sniff but returned to his place against the counter without removing the offending item. “What are you making?”

“French toast? Sorry, I hope you like it, I didn’t want to wake you up to ask what you wanted.” 

“French toast sounds amazing.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, watching Harry work. 

It _was_ domestic, was the thing—and furthermore, Draco didn’t mind it. He _liked_ it, actually. He felt calm and content—not New York content; a new kind of content that settled over him like a warm blanket. It felt _right,_ like this was how mornings were supposed to be—cozy and companionable, with shared breakfasts and banter with someone he—

Well, with someone.

_You know,_ said a little voice in the back of Draco’s mind, _you could have this. If you were brave, there’s a chance that you could have this._

*****

When they’d finished breakfast (and good lord, Harry made amazing French toast), Harry said regretfully that he had a few more projects that he needed to finish and deliver before the end of the day, and Draco admitted that he should get home to help with food preparation for the party if he didn’t want his mother to murder him with passive aggression. With a lingering kiss goodbye and a promise that they’d see each other at the party tomorrow, they parted ways. 

Draco was already through the Floo when he realized that he’d referred to his mother’s house as ‘home.’ Rather than panicking about it, he filed it away with the other factors he was planning to take into account as he considered his looming life decision.

Narcissa had, indeed, created a timetable for their canape and hors d’oeuvre preparation as she’d threatened to the night before. Once Draco had showered and changed, therefore, he joined her in the kitchen. Andromeda had taken Teddy out to burn off some energy, as he’d apparently been bouncing off the walls all morning, so it was just the pair of them. 

They worked efficiently together, slicing and peeling and rolling and sauteing, casting stasis charms as they went. They chatted as they worked, Draco carefully steering the conversation away from Harry or his imminent departure, and Narcissa, for once, let him. Andromeda and Teddy returned at some point and were promptly banished from the kitchen to ensure that they didn’t interrupt the rhythm of his and his mother’s efforts as they worked methodically through their list. Draco smiled as a truly impressive selection of finger foods began to take shape, their presentation precise and elegant under mother and son’s joint perfectionism. 

A knock came at the front door. Draco looked up from the mushrooms he was stuffing and was shocked to see that it was already late afternoon. Narcissa was carefully piping filling into a batch of gougères, so he began to set his own project aside before he heard Andromeda’s footsteps heading toward the door. Relieved, he returned to his work, not paying attention to the murmuring coming from the front of the house until he heard Andromeda calling for him.

Wondering who it could possibly be, he wiped off his hands and removed his apron. He went to join his aunt in the foyer only to find her standing in the company of none other than Ron Weasley.

“Um… hello, Ronald?” Draco greeted him, confused.

“Hi, Malfoy. Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something.” Ron’s cheeks were pink from the cold air, and he looked serious, and perhaps slightly apprehensive, but not upset.

“Of course,” Draco said after an awkward pause, ushering him into the parlour. They stood uncomfortably facing each other for a moment before Draco hesitantly offered, “Would you like some tea?” 

“No, that’s fine, I’ll only be a minute.” Ron seemed to be having some sort of internal debate before he sighed. “Alright. Look. You can’t tell Harry I was here, okay?”

Draco was immediately on his guard. “I can’t promise that without knowing what you’re here to say.”

“It’s nothing that…” Ron looked frustrated, but sighed and shook his head. “Ugh, fine. Here’s the thing. He’s not going to say anything, because he’s Harry. He doesn’t really… ask for the things he wants. You know? Never really got used to being _allowed_ to want things, I don’t think.”

He paused looking to Draco for some sort of affirmation, and Draco nodded, no idea where this was going.

“Right. So, the thing is, he’d never ask you.” Draco still didn’t understand what he was saying, and Ron sighed again. “To stay,” he clarified. “He’d never ask you to stay.” Draco could feel his eyes go wide, and Ron rushed on. “Look, I know you didn’t want people to know about the two of you, but he didn’t tell us, Hermione figured it out, so you can’t be mad at him.”

“I didn’t… _not_ want people to know,” Draco prevaricated, embarrassed, “I just didn’t want to… complicate things.”

Ron’s expression had grown, if possible, even more exasperated. “You two deserve each other,” he muttered under his breath. “Look. Malfoy. He really cares about you, alright? It’s like, annoyingly obvious. All he does anymore is work or spend time with you, and when he’s not with you, he’s talking about you. I haven’t seen him like this about anyone since… well, ever. I haven’t seen him like this, ever, and he’s been my best mate for fifteen years.” 

Draco just stood, unable to come up with anything to say to any of this. He’d... known, sort of. Or at least, he’d thought he’d known. Maybe. But he hadn’t believed.

Ron rambled on, seemingly unable to stop the flow of words. “Harry… he’s had a rough time. Like, his childhood and the Voldemort stuff, sure, but even after that. He isn’t comfortable being himself around that many people; feels like he has to live up to all the stupid ‘Savior’ expectations. But for whatever reason, he obviously is, with you. Comfortable being himself, I mean. Being around you, being _with_ you, makes him happy, for whatever reason. And—” he shrugged, looking sad. “He deserves to be happy. But he doesn’t really… believe that, I don’t think. So, like I said, he’ll never ask you to stay. Even though we know he wants you to. So I just… I thought you should know.” He trailed off, and then grimaced. “Seriously, though, Malfoy, please don’t tell him I told you any of this, because he might actually murder me.”

“I… of course not. Yes.” Draco’s mind was reeling, trying to synthesize everything he’d just heard. “Thank you. For telling me.” He paused, took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I care about him, as well.”

Ron gave a sideways sort of half smile. “Yeah. I kind of guessed you might.” Draco looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged again. “Call it a gut feeling.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going, I’m only in town to pick up a couple of his orders for delivery. S’pose I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll see you then. Have… have a pleasant evening, Ronald.”

“Bye, Malfoy.”

Draco escorted him to the door, and after closing it behind him, found himself leaning against it, his mind whirling. 

_You could have this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #RonWeasleyisaGoodFriend


	24. December 24

Draco had to admit, as he wandered through the ground floor of the house, that the party had come together spectacularly. The festoons of fir boughs and holly, the twinkling lights, the warm glow of candles, and sounds of quiet holiday music wafting through the air between the laughter and chatter of dozens of cheerful guests—it looked, sounded, and smelled like the pinnacle of Christmas cheer.

The house was packed but somehow still managed not to feel crowded. From time to time, Draco caught sight of his mother or aunt subtly encouraging people to move from one room to another, skillfully balancing the populations of each space to avoid claustrophobic conditions without ever seeming like they were doing so. Draco was a bit in awe as he watched them work, not just rearranging guests, but directing conversations, pulling those who looked lost into nearby groups and making introductions, refilling wine glasses here and disappearing them there. He sometimes forgot that, despite her later choices, Andromeda had been raised with the same exacting lessons in propriety and social graces as his mother had. 

Draco had been assigned the task of ensuring that the platters of food on the dining table and the floating trays of canapés never ran low. He was forced to admit, as he refilled tray after tray, that his mother had not overestimated their needs. He was currently between checks, however, and was sipping at some sort of cranberry-champagne cocktail while he observed the guests. 

It was a motley assortment of people: old friends of his family, long-time friends of Andromeda (many of whom had been members of the Order of the Phoenix once upon a time), and rather a few familiar faces from his school days. They were dressed in a wide range of styles, from formal dress robes and Muggle cocktail attire through jeans and truly horrendous Christmas jumpers. George Weasley’s, in particular, was impressively garish, with blinking lights and moving reindeer prancing across a headache-inducing red and green checkerboard print. Draco himself had foregone that particular route, settling on a dark green cashmere jumper and black slacks. When George had teased him about the simplicity of the outfit, he’d told him faux-regretfully that technicolor monstrosities just didn’t suit his complexion.

The entire Weasley clan actually appeared to be in attendance, including Bill and a heavily pregnant Fleur with their two young daughters. Teddy had gleefully absconded with the elder daughter, Victoire, as soon as they’d arrived, and the two were now ensconced in Teddy’s bedroom waging yet another battle in the long war of dragons versus dinosaurs (Draco, Andromeda, and Harry had been taking turns going upstairs to check on them from time to time, Andromeda insisting in no uncertain terms that Fleur was not to traipse up and down the steps unnecessarily while so far along in her pregnancy). Ron and Hermione had little Rose with them, and Percy was deep in conversation with the recently-retired Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had evidently decided that eight years of post-war service as Minister for Magic was quite enough to be getting on with, thankyouverymuch. 

To Draco’s pleasure, Pansy, Blaise, and Greg had all joined them, Greg with his girlfriend in tow—although Greg had whispered to him, when she had disappeared for a moment to refill their drinks, that he was hoping she would be his fiancée by tomorrow evening. Draco had given his heartfelt congratulations, pleased beyond measure that his friend—who had had an even more tumultuous childhood than his own, in some ways—had finally found some peace and happiness for himself. When Susan returned and pulled Greg off to see someone else she’d run into, Draco stayed with Blaise and Pansy for a few minutes, enjoying what would probably be the last time he’d get to spend with them for quite awhile, before continuing on his way.

In the parlour, Draco encountered Mrs. Nott and Xenophilius Lovegood, arm in arm, along with Theo and Luna, who both seemed completely unfazed by the situation. Luna was gesturing enthusiastically while explaining something or other to Theo, who looked completely enraptured by whatever it was. Draco waved to them before wandering on. He steered clear of Augusta Longbottom, who was currently talking to his mother—the woman had, frankly, always made him incredibly nervous. Nearby, he saw an incredibly uncomfortable looking Neville Longbottom being aggressively flirted with by Cassandra Zabini. He was about to go try to redirect her attentions when he saw Blaise headed their way and sighed in relief. He had been on the other end of Cassie’s advances, and it could be quite overwhelming, especially when one was not inclined toward the female—or any, he supposed, in Neville’s case—gender.

To his surprise, he found Minerva McGonagall and Horace Slughorn chatting near the fireplace in the library, each with a glass of scotch in hand. “Draco, my boy!” Slughorn greeted him rather tipsily, and Draco gave an internal roll of his eyes as he put on a pleasant smile and went to join them. Apparently his status as _persona non grata_ had passed along with his father.

“Professors,” he said, nodding politely at them.

“Oh ho ho, no need for that, no need for that!” Slughorn clapped him heavily on the shoulder. “You’ll make me feel old.” 

Out of the corner of his vision, Draco caught McGonagall not bothering to contain her own eye roll, and he had to bite back a smirk. “Horace, then,” he corrected himself. “And Minerva. How have you been keeping?”

“Quite well, thank you,” she answered in her comfortingly familiar brogue. “And yourself? It’s been quite some time since we’ve seen you.”

“Yes, I’ve been working in America for several years now. I’m afraid that I don’t make it back very frequently.”

“I’ve heard you’re doing quite well for yourself, my boy, quite well indeed,” Slughorn enthused. “Kashburn and Costleigh, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’ve been working with them for... seven years, now? I was lucky enough to be recruited while they were on quite a hiring streak, and I turned out to have a knack for it, so here I am.”

“A shame you didn’t go into potions, of course, you were always an excellent student—” Draco tried his very hardest not to snort and just managed it “—but I’ve heard wonderful things about them, wonderful things. A new age in wizarding finance, they say. Marvelous. Marvelous.”

“I think it’s wonderful that we’re seeing more integration of Muggle culture and technology into the magical community,” McGonagall opined. “We’ve been far too isolated for far too long. It was quite a burden on our Muggleborn students. Once this ‘internet’ and ‘electronic mail’ began to take off, it became harder and harder for them to adjust to life at Hogwarts.”

Draco turned to her, intrigued. “Have you been finding a way for them to use email from school, then?”

She hummed. “We’ve been experimenting with magic-dampeners on some disused outbuildings. Thus far, it seems to have been going well, although there have, of course, been bumps along the way.” She gave a wry smile. “We had an incident with a pocketful of shrunken packages; the student didn’t realize that the dampeners would reverse the charm. Quite a surprise when their robes burst apart at the seams.”

Draco laughed. “Trial and error, I suppose.”

“Quite.”

Bidding the professors farewell, Draco went to check on food levels once more before beginning another lap of the rooms. He’d seen Harry in passing several times, but hadn’t managed to spend any time with him yet, constantly getting pulled into other conversations and looking around to find him gone. He had just made it to the living room when Luna Lovegood appeared at his shoulder. “He’s over by the windows,” she told him, uncannily observant as ever. “You may want to rescue him; I always warn him about the nargles, but he never listens.” She waved her hand toward the upper sash of the window, where a sprig of mistletoe was lying in wait. 

“Ah. Thank you for the warning, Luna; I’ll let him know.”

She patted his arm affectionately and wandered off, leaving Draco to make his way over to where Harry was looking outside, sipping at a mug of what was likely mulled wine, judging by the cinnamon stick garnish. 

“Luna sent me to warn you about the nargles,” he said, stepping up so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Harry. 

Harry startled slightly, looking quickly over at Draco. “Oh! Hi.” Then, processing his words, he glanced up. “Ah. Who was responsible for that, do you think?”

“Almost certainly Mother,” Draco replied with a smirk. “She loves a touch of dramatic holiday romance. I promise I won’t accost you in front of everyone you know, though, don’t worry.”

Harry laughed a little sadly and turned his head back toward the window. “I’m not worried.” He straightened his back slightly, and his tone was lighter when he went on. “It turned out really well, didn’t it? The party.”

“It did,” Draco agreed. “I hate to admit it, because I don’t want to enable my mother’s neuroses, but she does have a knack for throwing an event.”

“Does it run in the family?” Harry asked curiously.

“Merlin, no. I doubt I could even put together a dinner party without help. Not that I’ve tried. I’ve never done much hosting, to be honest.”

“Really? I would have thought you’d be into that sort of thing. The way you talk about New York, it sounds like a dinner party sort of place.”

“Hmm. I attend them from time to time, I suppose, but truthfully, I can’t think of anyone I would want to invite to something like that. The people I know are more… ‘networking cocktails’ acquaintances than ‘invite into your home’ acquaintances.” Draco felt a twinge of loneliness in his chest as he said it, even though he was currently surrounded by people. Remembered loneliness, he supposed—or possibly anticipatory. How had he spent eight years in New York without making one friend close enough to have over for dinner?

Harry nodded and made a little sound of understanding, still looking out the window. He seemed to be a bit lost in his own head, and Draco wondered if, perhaps, he should leave him to his thoughts. He was feeling unaccountably awkward, more so than he had with Harry for weeks now. “Well,” he said, finally, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?”

Snapping back to himself, Harry looked up at Draco and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be here for presents in the morning before I head to the Weasleys.”

“Good. Well, enjoy the rest of the party.”

“Draco, wait.” Harry put a hand on his arm as he turned to go, and Draco looked back at him. Harry met his gaze and then glanced up at the leaves dangling above them again. “Isn’t it bad luck or something to ignore mistletoe?”

Draco’s heart did something a bit funny. “I’m not sure,” he said, turning back, “but I suppose we’d best not risk it.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Harry agreed, and leaned up to kiss him.

It was soft, and slow, and unbearable. Harry’s free hand came to Draco’s waist, and Draco’s both rose to cup his face. Their lips moved gently against one another, and Draco could taste the spices of the mulled wine lingering on Harry’s tongue as it flicked briefly at his own before retreating all too soon. He almost went to chase it, but then he felt something damp on his thumbs. He pulled back, startled and concerned, and Harry laughed wetly, freeing Draco to wipe at his eyes.

“Ugh, sorry. God, I’m having fifth year flashbacks again.” Draco must have looked confused, because he waved a hand up above them. “Mistletoe, kissing, lots of tears. Hers, not mine. Long story.”

“Sounds like it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just a little maudlin, don’t worry about it. Too much wine, probably.” He lifted his mug in a mock toast. “I should go get some food to even it out. I don’t think those gingerbread men are gone yet.” He gave Draco a forced-looking smile and turned to walk away. “See you in the morning,” he threw over his shoulder.

“See you in the morning,” Draco echoed, quietly, knowing that Harry was already too far away to hear him. He blinked, only slightly surprised to feel that his own eyes were dangerously wet. Wiping them surreptitiously with his thumb, unintentionally mingling his own tears with Harry’s, he turned to look out the window himself, hoping to see whatever he had been pondering for so long. Aside from the light from a few windows in the distance, there was nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SO SORRY!! I know this is an awful place to leave things, but I swear I’ll make it up to you tomorrow! I hope you enjoyed the party, other than that final bit 😬


	25. December 25: Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's past midnight in my time zone (EST), so it's technically Christmas! Consider the early posting my gift to you (and definitely not just my getting the chapter up early so that I don't feel bad about sleeping in).

“Cousin Draco Cousin Draco!” Draco was awoken by a flying tackle as Teddy leapt onto his bed and landed on his chest. Despite the huff of breath that escaped him, he couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like it had been ages since the first time he’d first been woken like this, despite it actually having been barely more than three weeks ago.

“Good morning, Teddy,” he answered fondly, his voice rough with sleep. “Something you wanted?”

“It’s _Christmas!”_ Teddy exclaimed, sounding scandalized. 

“Is it?” Draco asked, feigning confusion. “No, that can’t be right.”

“It is!” Teddy insisted. “It’s Christmas and you have to get up so that we can open presents!”

Draco laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’m getting up. Go ahead downstairs and let me get dressed.” He lifted Teddy off of himself and pulled the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Teddy gave him an offended look. “It’s _Christmas,”_ he said again. “You have to stay in your pajamas!”

“I do?” Draco frowned and looked down at his thin flannel bottoms and worn tee shirt. “Am I allowed to put my robe on, at least?”

Teddy sighed. “ _Fine.”_ After watching with crossed arms while Draco stood and went to pull his bathrobe (which was thick and velvety and very much not tartan) out of the wardrobe, he grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs.

Draco was laughing by the time they reached the bottom. “Calm down, the presents aren’t going anywhere!” He could smell coffee and cinnamon, reminding him instantly of waking up at Harry’s flat two mornings ago. He put the ache of it aside. It was too early in the day to be melancholy. “Am I allowed to have breakfast first?”

“You can bring it with you,” Teddy told him grudgingly, and Draco rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen.

There was a tray of steaming iced cinnamon rolls, along with a full carafe of coffee, waiting on the island, and Draco put two of the rolls on a plate before filling a mug and heading to the living room. Andromeda and Narcissa were already settled in the two squashy armchairs nearest the tree, so Draco curled up on a corner of the sofa, settling his plate on his knee. Teddy was cross-legged on the floor, fidgeting impatiently and ignoring his own cinnamon roll in favor of staring longingly at the pile of wrapped gifts under the tree.

Draco was just taking his first sip of coffee when the floo flared and Harry stepped through, also in his pajamas—blue fleece bottoms festively printed with snowflakes and a long-sleeved thermal shirt, along with a pair of spectacularly clashing orange, Chudley Cannons-branded slippers. Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked as he looked him up and down, and Harry grinned ruefully. “Teddy would never have forgiven me for getting dressed.” He seemed more cheerful than he had the night before, and Draco was glad. He wanted to enjoy this last bit of time with them all without thinking about what tomorrow would bring.

“Yes, I was very adamantly informed that I was not to change,” he answered, smiling.

“There are coffee and cinnamon rolls in the kitchen,” Narcissa told Harry over her own steaming mug. “Why don’t you go fix yourself a plate, and then we can begin?”

Harry hurried off after a pointed glare from Teddy, and rejoined them shortly to settle himself at the other end of the sofa. “ _Finally.”_ Teddy groused, and, rolling her eyes, Andromeda gave him permission to begin distributing the gifts.

The vast majority of the packages were, of course, for Teddy, and so the adults sat back and watched in fond amusement as he tore through them, delighting at the growing pile of books and toys and art supplies he unwrapped. Draco, having been informed ahead of time of Teddy’s current dinosaur fixation, had brought him several Muggle books on the subject. Harry had, in addition to several other things, zeroed in on his new interest in outer space and crafted a moving model of the solar system. 

Once Teddy had demolished his own stack of gifts, leaving a trail of crumpled wrapping paper in his wake, he distributed the rest of the presents with an air of benevolence that had Draco coughing to cover a laugh and Andromeda and Harry visibly struggling to keep straight faces. Narcissa took it in stride, giving him a courteous nod as she accepted her own small stack. 

They opened their gifts from Teddy, oohing and ahhing appropriately, and then the ones they’d all gotten each other. In addition to the hideous dragon-printed tie from Teddy, Draco received a lovely stationery set from his mother and a hand knitted scarf from Andromeda, which he thanked them each graciously for. Once those were opened, he was left with a rectangular box about the size of a novel from Harry. Carefully sliding a finger under a flap of the paper to unwrap it, he found—

Draco stared at the object in his hands. It was a gorgeous, obviously handmade picture frame decorated with an intricate pattern of delicately carved branches and leaves. The leaves were so detailed that they looked almost alive, and when Draco touched them, they fluttered as though they’d been caught in a passing breeze. At the bottom there was an inscription: ‘Black Family Christmas, 2006.’ Draco looked down in awe at the photograph contained within—a moving image of him, Andromeda, his mother, and Teddy decorating the Christmas tree together.

The four of them looked uncomplicatedly happy, grinning and laughing as they worked. The picture perfectly captured the spirit of the moment, the sense of home and family that Draco had felt. He thought back but couldn’t remember Harry even having a camera with him that day, let alone photographing them. He looked up at Harry. “How—?” 

Harry shrugged slightly, smiling. “I can be pretty sneaky when I want to be. I did spend the majority of our school years getting into basically every corner of the castle and grounds that I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Only because you had that— oh, you cheater! Did you use your cloak?”

“Might’ve done. Do you like it? I thought you should have a picture with your family; something to take back with you. Something tangible.”

Draco looked down again, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. “It’s gorgeous, Harry.” He swallowed thickly. “It’s perfect.” Harry smiled, looking relieved. Draco cleared his throat. “Well, go on, open yours, then.” 

Harry obeyed, unwrapping the final gift in his lap. He took the snowglobe from its box and lifted it up to his eye level, taking it in. When he noticed the trio of little sledders among the other figures, he huffed out a surprised laugh. “Where on earth—?”

“Teddy found it,” Draco admitted. 

Teddy, who had been ignoring the proceedings—losing interest after he’d watched his own gifts be opened—looked up at his name and jumped up from the floor. “Let me see!” He pulled at Harry’s wrists to lower them. “I remember this! I didn’t see you buy it.” He gave Draco a mildly accusing look, and Draco grinned at him. 

“I didn’t buy it then, I went back for it later.” He looked back to Harry. “Teddy wanted to show me your tree in the toy store on Diagon; we noticed this on the way out. It reminded him—”

“—of us when we went sledding, yeah. It’s amazing,” Harry said softly, watching the tiny trio slide down the hill. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Draco watched him for a moment before mentally shaking himself. “I need more coffee,” he declared. “Anyone else?”

They finished their breakfast while Teddy examined his new belongings, and soon, Harry got up to leave. “I’ve got to go get ready,” he said apologetically. 

“Give the Weasleys our love,” Narcissa told him.

“I will.” He turned, and though his expression didn’t change, Draco could see something shift behind his eyes. “Draco, what time’s your Portkey tomorrow? I’ll come see you off. If you want, I mean.”

“I’d like that. It leaves at four in the afternoon.”

“Okay. Great. I’ll see you then.” He held Draco’s gaze for a few moments longer, and Draco felt everything in his chest clenching as his smile faltered slightly. Harry blinked and looked away. “Right. Happy Christmas, all of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” came the overlapping responses, and then the Floo flared once more, and he was gone—and Draco realized, with an aching surety, that a part of his heart had gone with him and was, in all likelihood, not coming back.

*****

The family had shared what should have been a festive dinner, but Draco’s mind had been half-elsewhere the entire time. His mother and Andromeda had taken turns shooting him concerned looks, but neither had said anything. Narcissa had seemed to struggle with holding back her words, and her face was sad, but she’d ultimately kept her thoughts to herself. Teddy’s mood, too, had turned after Harry had mentioned Draco’s departure, and although he had seemed to be fine on and off, he had picked at his plate morosely once they were all seated. Eventually, Andromeda had ended their suffering, saying that she was going to go read her new book from Draco, and the rest of them had gratefully taken the excuse to go their separate ways.

Now, Draco sat in a chair by the fireplace, brushing his fingertips over the carvings of Harry’s picture frame and watching the miniature leaves shudder and shift under his touch. The flickering light of the crackling fire emphasized the delicate designs. He watched himself and his family in the photo, laughing as they hung decorations on the tree. He watched his mother smile at him and press a kiss to his cheek while Teddy turned and grinned at the camera, waving. In the background, Andromeda surreptitiously rearranged some of the more haphazardly hung baubles that were in danger of falling from their branches.

He thought of Harry in his workshop, carving this frame for him, knowing how important this moment had been to Draco and wanting to give him a way to keep it with him. Then his thoughts drifted, and he thought of Harry lifting Teddy to help him decorate the tree; of Harry laughing and talking with Teddy as he took him to do all of the things he’d never gotten to do himself as a child. And then—then, he thought of Harry warm and sleep-tousled and smiling. He thought of him grinning, hands in his pockets, backing away down a cold winter street after a kiss that had felt like home. He thought of him naked above him, eyes full of things that Draco hadn’t been ready to understand. 

He thought of Harry whispering ‘ _We’ll be fine’_ under his breath on an ice rink. He thought of the ‘ _I’ll miss you’_ he’d murmured while half asleep. He thought of him laughing at himself while trying to fight back tears under a sprig of mistletoe. 

And then he thought of himself, waking up in New York two days from now in his perfectly nice apartment, in his perfectly nice neighborhood, alone. No Harry in his bed. No Teddy to jump on his chest and demand he play dragons and dinosaurs. No mother and aunt downstairs to tease him and talk to him and include him in their lives like he belonged there.

And suddenly— suddenly, everything seemed very simple. He took a deep breath, and he let it out, and he made a decision. For once in his life, Draco Malfoy was going to be brave.

He wrote a letter to take to the Owl Post Office in the village when it opened in the morning. Setting it on a small table in the front hall, he turned and headed toward the parlour, where he knew his mother and Andromeda were ostensibly reading but were, in all likelihood, just as preoccupied as he was. 

“Mother, Andromeda,” he greeted. “I want to talk to you about something.” When they’d both looked up at him and his mother had slid a bookmark into the volume settled on her lap, closing it, he went on. “Last week, when I went into the K&C offices, I ran into Chris Costleigh, my old boss, and she made me an offer.” He paused. “A job offer.”

A smile began to spread across his Narcissa’s face.

*****

He checked the Weasleys’ first. Molly greeted him with a hug when she opened the door, inviting him in. “I was actually just hoping to borrow Harry for a moment,” Draco told her, smiling. She ushered him inside anyway and closed the door behind him.

Ron, who had appeared at her shoulder, apparently curious about who was knocking at their door on Christmas day, took in his expression with interest. “He’s not here, mate,” he told him. “Took off after dinner.”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well, poor dear,” Molly added. 

“Oh.” The wind went out of Draco’s sails abruptly. He’d psyched himself up, flying high on the delight of his family at his announcement, and now he felt a bit lost. He had no idea where to find Harry if he wasn’t here; he somehow didn’t think that he’d have gone home.

“But stay for a while, let me get you a drink.” Molly bustled away, and Ron turned to watch her go before turning back to Draco and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s probably in his workshop,” he said, quietly. “He goes there when he needs to think, sometimes.” Draco closed his eyes in relief, letting out a breath, and nodded. No wild goose chase, then. When he opened his eyes again, Ron’s look was knowing. “You should go before mum gets back,” he advised, “or you’re never leaving.”

Ginny, who had been passing, apparently overheard this last bit because she looked over at them. “He’s here for Harry?” she asked Ron. Ron nodded, and she shifted her attention to Draco. “About damned time.” She glanced over her shoulder, and Draco followed her gaze to see Mrs. Weasley on her way back, holding several mugs and a plate of cookies. “For Merlin’s sake,” Ginny hissed, “get out of here while you can.”

Draco, not needing to be told— well, not needing to be old _more_ than twice, anyway, ducked out the door and quickly Apparated away.

*****

Harry didn’t answer when Draco knocked on his workshop door. Draco waited for a few moments, and when he didn’t hear footsteps, he knocked again. It was still fairly early, but the sun was already down and it had gotten rather cold, so after waiting a while longer and still receiving no response, Draco decided ‘fuck it’ and tried the doorknob, which turned easily. 

Harry was seated, slumping, at the table at the far end of the room. He had a half-formed carving of what looked like it was going to be a niffler in front of him, but he wasn’t working on it; his elbows were on the table and he was turning it absently in his hands. He didn’t look up at the sound of the door.

“Harry?” Draco asked, and Harry startled, dropping the niffler onto the table, where it bounced and rolled slightly.

“Shit! Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” He righted the little figure and stood, pushing his glasses up slightly and wiping his face quickly and self consciously with his sleeve. As Draco moved closer, he could see that his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. Now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. “I, ah… I went to the Weasleys’, but they said you’d left. Ron told me that you might be here.” He was directly in front of Harry now, close enough to touch but not sure if he should.

Harry gave a half-hearted shrug, not quite meeting Draco’s eyes. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling particularly festive, I guess. Didn’t want to bring everyone down.”

“Harry…” He lifted a hand, but Harry stepped back.

“Please don’t. I—” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes again. “Look, it’s not your fault, you were up front from the beginning; you didn’t even want to do this in the first place. And I should have known better, I know that I— but I didn’t expect to get invested this fast, honestly, and I just can’t—” his voice caught and he turned away, tilting his head up toward the ceiling. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“Harry.”

“Draco, please. I’m sorry, I really am, but can you please just—”

“ _Harry.”_ Draco took his shoulder and turned him, holding on to him so that he couldn’t move away again, and, with his other hand, tipped his chin back to force him to make eye contact. “I put in for a transfer.”

“You—” Harry blinked at him in confusion, green eyes wide and wet and beautiful. “What?”

Draco moved his hand from Harry’s chin, using it to push a few curls behind his ear. “I put in for a transfer. To the London office.” He paused, and, when Harry was silent, awkwardly went on, correcting himself. “Well, not a transfer, precisely. Technically, they offered me a slightly different job here, but—”

“You’re staying?” Harry interrupted, looking shocked. He reached up and removed Draco’s hand from his hair, gripping it tightly, almost hurting Draco’s fingers with the strength of it. His eyes searched Draco’s, obviously not quite believing what he was hearing. “Draco, are you telling me you’re staying?”

Holding eye contact, Draco nodded slowly. Harry let out a gasping little laugh, and, grabbing Draco’s face with both hands, he pulled him down and kissed him fiercely.

Draco’s eyes fell closed, and he allowed himself to melt into it, letting his mouth fall open under Harry’s and wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer. He poured everything he had into it, trying to tell Harry without words everything that he wasn’t quite yet ready to say. Harry’s lips were salty with tears, and Draco kissed them away, wanting to take back all the hurt, to mend every little broken piece. He kissed Harry until he couldn’t breathe, and then a bit more for good measure, before he pulled back, resting their foreheads together. 

Harry laughed again, a sound more than half sob. “You’re such a fucking bastard,” he said. “I can’t _believe_ you waited to tell me until—fuck, I hate you so much.” He buried his face in Draco’s neck. “So fucking much.” 

His own eyes stinging, Draco held him tighter, not even minding when the frames of Harry’s glasses dug into his skin. “It wasn’t on purpose.” He felt raw inside, in both the best and worst ways at once. “I wasn’t certain what I was going to do until today, I swear. I would have told you if I was sure, but I had to sort it out on my own; I couldn’t...” He breathed out heavily, struggling—and failing—to keep his voice steady. “But after you left this morning, I kept thinking about what it would be like to be back in New York without my family. Without you. And this afternoon I just… realized. I can’t go back to that. I can’t give this all up.” He kissed the side of Harry’s head, his familiar curls—lavender scented from the shampoo that Draco had bought him, already in deeper than he was willing to admit—and added, quietly, “I can’t give you up.”

Harry made a sound Draco couldn’t quite decipher, but his fingers clenched against his back, and Draco could feel the smile that spread over his face where it was pressed against him. “I still hate you,” he reiterated, words muffled, “But I can’t give you up, either. Arsehole.”

“Okay,” Draco told him, continuing to stroke his hair gently. “That’s fair. I can work with that.” He blinked, a few rogue tears trailing down his cheeks despite his best efforts at holding them back.

Harry pulled back again, his hands coming to Draco’s face, still looking like he didn’t quite believe what was happening. “You’re really staying? Like, permanently?”

Draco laughed, feeling happy, and alive, and _certain._ “I still have to go back to New York tomorrow,” he said, sniffing a bit as he wiped his face with the cuff of his coat. “I’ve got to sort out my flat, pack up, do some handover things for work. The paperwork to change jobs probably won’t even go through until the new year. But after that, yes. I’m coming back.” He kissed Harry again, lingering, sweet, a promise. “I’m coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, writing this fic has been a fucking ride, start to finish. Thank you SO MUCH to all of you that read along; your comments kept me going as my buffer of completed chapters got shorter and shorter and I started to wonder if I would finish on time. I hope that the ending is as disgustingly cheesy as you hoped! Personally, my teeth almost fell out writing so much pure sugary sweetness (especially that last line), but I committed to full Hallmark from the outset, and I just couldn’t end it any other way. I wish all of you who celebrate, religiously or secularly, the merriest of Christmasses—and if you, like me, can’t be physically home this year and are hurting, I hope that this absurdly fluffy nonsense could bring you a little bit of joy. Cheers to 2021 and a fresh start! 🥂
> 
> So much love,  
> GB


End file.
